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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



SELECTIONS FROM EARLY 
BALLAD POETRY. 



YE SHAL FYNDE ENOW BOTH GRETE AND SMALE 
OF STORIALL THYNG THAT TOUCHETH GENTYLNESSE 
AND EKE MORALITIE AND HOLINESSE. 

CHAUCER. 



SELECTIONS 

FROM THE 

EARLY BALLAD 
POETRY 

OF 

(ZEnglanft ants Scotland 



EDITED BY 

RICHARD JOHN KING, B. A. 

EXETER COLLEGE, OXFORD. 



f^ 



^ 






CHARLES WH1TT1NGHAM 
CHISWICK. 





HE following Selection from the 
Early Ballad Poetry of Great 
Britain has been made in the 
hope of diffusing a more general 
acquaintance with the National 
Poetry of our country. The works of Bishop 
Percy, Sir Walter Scott, Jamieson, Motherwell, 
Cromek, Buchan, and Kinloch are the sources 
from whence the Ballads have been selected ; and 
care has been taken, by the omission of all ob- 
jectionable passages, to prevent the liability of the 
volume to charges which may be brought against 
more extended collections. 



June, 1842. 



CONTENTS. 

Page 

Introduction i 

Robin Hood and Guy of Gisborne 3 

Adam Bell, "Clym of tbe Clougb, and William of 

Cloudesly 17 

King Estmere 49 

Sir Cauline 62 

The Marriage of Sir Gawaine 81 

King Arthur's Death 96 

Sir Aldingar 108 

The Nut-brown Maid 121 

The Children in the Wood 135 

The Spanish Lady's Love 142 

The Jew's Daughter 147 

The Battle of Otterbourne 151 

Chevy Chase 172 

Thomas the Rhymer 185 

The Sang of the Outlaw Murray 196 

The Douglas Tragedy 213 

Lament of the Border Widow 220 

The Dowie Dens of Yarrow 225 

Johnie Armstrang 230 

Annan Water 239 

Barthram's Dirge 243 

The Lass of Lochroyan 246 



Vlll CONTENTS. 

Page 

Earl Richard 254 

Johnie of Breadislee 260 

The cruel Sister 266 

The Wife of Usher's Well 272 

Sir Patrick Spens 275 

The Earl of Murray 283 

Bonnie George Campbell 288 




INTRODUCTION. 




HE extent of intercourse which 
prevailed during the Anglo-Sax- 
on sera, between that people and 
the kindred nations of the North, 
renders it a difficult question 
how far the early literature o 
our island was a natural developement of the 
Anglo-Saxon mind, or more immediately the 
effect of the influence of the Scallds and Sagas 
of Scandinavia. The characteristics of both na- 
tions are in most respects the same; but the 
poetry of the Saxons exhibits in all its forms 
traces of a higher degree of civilization, or more 
properly of refinement, than can be discovered 
in the Edda or the war song. Almost all the 
remains of Anglo-Saxon verse, indeed, which 
have been preserved, are of a religious character : 
and where this is not the case, a classic model 
has been apparently followed. Even the Beo- 
wulf has not the naive mode of narration usual 
in ancient popular poetry; and the episodes 

B 



11 INTRODUCTION. 

introduced in this, the most strictly national 
Anglo-Saxon poem remaining, seem formed on 
those of Virgil. Still the constant intercourse 
with Norway and Denmark, the visits of northern 
Scallds to the courts of our Anglo-Saxon kings, 1 
and the existence of a large body of early and 
unwritten song, contributed to keep up to a 
certain extent the ancient Teutonic feeling. And 
if the airy halls of Valhalla were no longer to be 
the abode of the warrior who fell amid the "joy 
of swords," the " pleasant londe of faerie" was 
already forming its enchanted palaces for the 
repose of the " veray parfit gentil knicht." 

The earliest and most purely national poetry 
of the Anglo-Saxons undoubtedly consisted of 
those popular songs or ballads to which allusion 
has already been made. In the ancient Life of 
St. Dunstan, he is said to have learnt " the vain 
songs of his nation ;" 2 and Aldhelm, according to 

1 " Jmo peregrinos principes nostrae quoque poesios noti- 
tiam babuisse, constat; cujus rei illustre argumentum nobis 
suppeditat, Magni Nudipedis Norvegiae Regis bistoria; eques 
enim Gallus, nomine Giffardus, intra navem, qua Angliara 
petebat, irrisorio carmine ab Islando quodam lacessitus, auc- 
torem, simul in Angliam venisset, ad provincial illius princi- 
pem, quo appulsus est, accusasse traditur ; constituto de- 
inde judicio, cum reus carmen recitare jussus, aliud, sed 
Eeque inisorium, reposuisset, (decantabat enim laudes ejus, 
fortiaque facta bello, cui non intermit) a principe absolutus 
est, quod laudes accusatoris illo carmine celebralas judicaret. 
Quain ille sententiam nunquam tulisset, si linguae Danicae 



INTRODUCTION. Ill 

William of Malmesbury, was in the daily habit 
of taking his station on a public bridge, as 
though a minstrel by profession, in order that 
he might benefit his then semi-barbarous coun- 
trymen by the mixture of more serious subjects 
with the harper's ballad. 3 The same historian 
alludes to certain ancient songs, ("Cantilenae,") 
the subjects of which were the birth of Athelstan, 
and the "evil life" of Edgar ; a fact which may 
perhaps account for the law of that king pro- 
hibiting the singing of ballads at festivals and 
banquets. 4 Lays on the life and actions of 
Hereward are noticed by Ingulf, and the un- 
known author of the treatise, " De Gestis Here- 
wardi," edited by Michel. 

With the exception of the celebrated ode on 
the Battle of Brunesburgh, and some few similar 
fragments in the Saxon Chronicle, none of these 
ancient songs have been preserved. It is suffici- 

etiam exactiorem (ut in carminum interpretatione omnino 
requiritur) notitiam non habuisset. Extant etiam rliythmi 
hoc ipso idiomate Angliae Hiberniaeque regibus oblati et 
liberaliter compensati ; itaque hinc colligi potest linguam 
Danicam in aulis vicinorum regum, principumque familiarem 
fuisse, non secus ac hodie in aulis principum, peregrina idi- 
omata in deliciis haberi cernimus." — Torfccus. Prcefat. ad 
Hist. Oread. 

2 Sharon Turner, Anglo Saxons, iii. p. 278. 

3 Gul. Malmes. De Pontificibus, lib. v. 

4 Wilkins, Leges Anglo-Saxonicae, p. 8o. 



IV INTRODUCTION. 

ently clear, however, that in many of the earlier 
Latin chronicles long descriptive passages from 
them have been almost literally translated. Henry 
of Huntingdon's' account of the Battle of Beorg- 
ford or Burford, between Ethelbald of Mercia 
and the men of Wessex, is apparently such a 
version, and his Chronicle will afford numerous 
instances of a similar character. 1 Scanty as 
these remains are, they are sufficient to shew 
us that the same imaginative, and so to speak, 
instinctive character which distinguishes the 
more purely Gothic poetry, was also the heritage 
of the Teuton, before he had acquired that ar- 
tistic coldness of style which pervades the more 
laboured compositions of the Anglo-Saxons. In 
the ancient legal forms, moreover, of our an- 
cestors, the same distinction is to be remarked. 
The following alliterative verse is evidently of 
the days when the "old Saxon" dwelt in his 
leafy " bower," on the banks of the Elbe or the 
Weser. It is a charter commemorating the gift 
made by the Confessor to 

"Rannulph Peperkyng and his kindling, of 
the hundred of Chelmer and Daneing, with Hart 
and Hind, Doe and Buck, Fox and Cat, Hare 
and Brock, Wild Fowl with all his Flock, Par- 
trich, Feasant, Hen and Cock, Green and Wild 



1 See particularly his narrative of the Battle of Creccan- 
ford in Kent, between Hengist and the Britons, lib. i. 



INTRODUCTION. V 

Stub and Stock, To Keepen and to Yeemen with 
all hire might, both by day and eke by night, 
And houndes for to hold, good, swift, and bold, 
Four greyhounds and six bractTes, For hare and 
fox and Wild Cattes." Remodelled and altered 
as are these rythmical forms, we have the high 
authority of Sir Francis Palgrave for asserting 
that "in their substance they seem to ascend 
into the age of Paganism; and the magical 
powers assigned to these ancient legal sentences 
perhaps evince their connexion with the ancient 
mythology and the heathen creed." 1 

The existence of anything approaching to a 
metrical romance among the Anglo-Saxons was 
expressly denied by Ritson ; but he wrote pre- 
vious to the discovery of the long poem on 
Beowulf amongst the Cotton MSS. and refused 
to recognize the strong proofs of Northern origin 
in the romances of "Horn Childe" and "Havelok 
the Dane." These latter will be subsequently 
noticed, but the Beowulf, as one of the earliest, 
and perhaps the most singular of existing ro- 
mances, demands a more lengthy analysis. As 
far as any portion of this celebrated poem can be 
said to be historical, the events belong to the fifth 
century. In its present form, however, an earlier 
date can scarcely be assigned it than the eighth 
or ninth; and the MS. itself, according to Sharon 

1 History of the English Commonwealth, i. p. 149. 



VI INTRODUCTION. 

Turner, is of the tenth. But the general character 
of the romance is essentially mythic: the adven- 
tures of Odin "The Wolf Tamer," have become 
those of the mortal hero, and the whole of his ex- 
ploits bear a supernatural stamp. Later episodes, 
events, and allusions have been interwoven with 
the main story, and as a whole, it is a remark- 
able instance of the traditive nature of popular 
fiction, and of the peculiar change wrought 
therein by the introduction of Christianity. 

The opening of the poem describes the ceremo- 
nies observed at the death of Scyld, the king " of 
the whale's path." In the true spirit of the old 
Viking, he was borne to the sea-shore, and " with 
battle-weapons and war-weeds," laid on the deck 
of his own galley ; over his head was set up a 
" golden ensign ;" and then they let the ship 
float alone over the waters, none knew whither. 
After his death, Hrothgar, son of Halfdene, his 
descendant, and Lord of the Gardanes, built for 
himself a stately palace of pinelogs, and to cele- 
brate the completion of this " greatest of mead 
halls," assembled his vassals at one of the great 
feasts usual in the North, which lasted for seve- 
ral days. Here occurs one of the songs of 
a scop or bard, who "knew well how to relate 
from a distant period the origin of men." It is 
remarkable as being the evident interpolation of 
a later age. " The Almighty wrought the earth, 
the bright-faced plain which water encompasseth : 



INTRODUCTION. Vll 

exulting in victory he set up the sun and moon, 
luminaries to light the inhabitants of the land, 
and adorned the districts of earth with boughs 
and leaves : life also He created for every kind 
that goeth about alive." The festivity, however, 
which prevailed in the halls of Hrothgar excited 
the envy of one of the ancient giants of Utgarda- 
land, — "A mighty hunter of the marches, — one 
that held the moors, — the fierce spirit Grendel, 
— and in the night he set off to visit the lofty 
house." Here, according to the usual manners 
and customs of the more ferocious giant, for if 
we may believe the learned Saxo Grammaticus, 
" Of giants there be three sorts," he seized in 
their sleep thirty of the thanes. No skill of 
Hrothgar's warriors was of the slightest avail 
against the "dweller of the misty moors;" and 
for the space of twelve years he continued 
nightly to infest the Mead Hall. 

It befell, however, that Beowulf, "Hygelac's 
Thane, good amongst the Geats," heard of the 
deeds of Grendel, and as he was of the race of 
men " strongest of might in the day of his life," 
with fifteen companions he set off to the Hall of 
Hrothgar. On arriving in the country of the 
Hring Danes, " they thanked God because the 
wave-ways had been easy to them," and then 
proceeded along the shore, where they were met 
by the warder of the Scyldyngs, whose duty it 
was to keep the sea-coasts. A conference takes 



Vlll INTRODUCTION. 

place, in which Beowulf declares his errand, and 
on being brought before Hrothgar, announces 
his readiness to undertake the adventure of the 
Grendel, and " purify" the palace. He is taunted 
by Hunferth, the son of Eglaf, as having been 
overcome in a swimming-match with Brecca, and 
thrown by the waves on Heathorene's shore. 
The reply of Beowulf distinctly marks his super- 
natural character. For five nights he declares 
he had been upon the sea, fighting against the 
" whale fishes;" the Nicors fell before his sword, 
and he was at length landed on the coast of Fin- 
land. The mead cup is then brought him by 
Wealtheow, the Queen of Hrothgar, and he is 
left in the Hall to await the coming of Grendel. 
After devouring a sleeping thane, the evil spirit 
proceeds to attack Beowulf, but he encounters 
what he had never met with before, a grasp 
stronger than his own. A fierce contest takes 
place, during which the Mead Hall would have 
been overthrown, had it not been " forged cun- 
ningly with iron bands both within and without." ' 



1 The palaces or drinking halls of the North were fre- 
quently of very great dimensions : that of Frithioff, built of 
pine logs, held more than a thousand guests ; it had a table 
of polished oak, shining as steel; and between the household 
Gods (two elm tree images of Odin and Frea) was the ele- 
vated seat of the chief, covered with a huge bear skin of his 
own killing, its jaw still tinged with red, and its claws tipped 
with silver. In the midst of the hall was the huge hearth, 



INTRODUCTION. IX 

Grendel escapes, however, to the lake of Nicors, 
although mortally wounded." l 

But the troubles of Hrothgar were not yet 
brought to an end. The mother of Grendel, a 
mysterious being who inhabited the "terror of 
waters, the cold streams," arrived on the ensuing 
night at the palace, determined to avenge the 
death of her son. Here she killed one of the 
noblest of the thanes, and escaped, uninjured, 
another dwelling having been assigned to Beo- 
wulf. At the request of the hero, a large body 
of warriors accompany him to the dark lake in 
which she lived, " where the mountain stream 
rusheth downwards, under the darkness of the 
hills, a flood beneath the earth ;" a few scathed 
pine trees grew here and there along the shore, 
and on the rocks many Nicors were lying. Beo- 
wulf was not to be deterred by the snakes and 
sea-dragons which were swimming on the lake, 
but armed with his shirt of mail, " set round 
with shapes of swine, that brand or war-knife, 
might have no power to bite it," and with the 



and through its ample chimney the stars appeared. Val- 
halla, the hall of Odin, was a faithful copy of the actual 
palaces of the Northern chiefs. 

1 The Nicors of the Anglo-Saxons were the evil spirits of 
the waters ; they are identical with the Swedish Nisse or 
Nixen, the Danish Nbcke or Nokke, and probably the Naecki 
of the Fins : the English " old Nick" is of the same family. 
Hnikarr or Nikarr was a name of Odin. 



X INTRODUCTION. 

sword Hrunting, one of the ancient treasures of 
Hrothgar, he plunged beneath the waters : after 
a desperate fight with the sea-monsters which 
attacked him on all sides, he was seized by the 
mother of Grendel, and borne into a large hall 
at the bottom of the lake, where by the light of 
a fire of pinelogs, he could easily discover his 
adversary. Here a contest takes place, in which 
Beowulf discovers that his sword is of no avail 
against " the spirit of the dark water," and is 
only saved by the magic might of his shirt of 
mail. He at length sees amongst the pieces of 
armour which hang on the walls, an old sword of 
giant workmanship, the golden hilt of which was 
covered with Runic letters, and which was alto- 
gether larger than any other man might have 
used in the " play of war." With this weapon 
he succeeds in destroying the evil being, whose 
head he had no sooner severed from her shoulders, 
than the mysterious sword begins gradually to 
melt, as though formed of ice; the hilt, however, 
remains, which he carries off as a memorial, to- 
gether with the heads of the sea-monster and her 
son, whose dead body he discovers in a recess of 
the hall. 

A description now occurs of the departure of 
Beowulf and his warriors from the country of 
the Gar Danes. They are conducted to their 
ship by the same warder who discovered their 
arrival, and laden with the treasures presented 
by Hrothgar, horses and armour, they arrive at 



INTRODUCTION. XI 

the palace of Hygelac, in the land of the Geats. 
Here the hero remains until the death of the 
king, when he succeeds (o the inheritance, and 
ruled the " broad kingdom" well for fifty years ; 
until a " fire drake" who watched by day over 
his golden " hoard" in a cavern by the sea-shore, 
and flew through the air by night, having been 
robbed of a golden vase, proceeded in revenge to 
burn the whole country of the Geats. Beowulf, 
although by this time " the strength of his arm 
was diminished," determined to seek the "worm" 
in his cavern, and departs to the sea-shore for 
that purpose: here, as though impressed with 
the fatal issue of the combat which is about to 
ensue, he bids farewell to his comrades, and sings 
his death song; after which, the dragon issues 
from his den, and attacks Beowulf, but the war 
bill of the old chief refuses to make the slightest 
impression on the scales, and although assisted 
by Wiglaf, " a chieftain of the Scyldyngs," the 
dragon is not killed until Beowulf is mortally 
wounded ; he expires at the mouth of the cavern, 
after requesting Wiglaf that his funeral mound 
may be raised "aloft on the promontory which 
shall rise high on Hronesnses, for a memorial to 
my people, that the sea sailors may afterwards 
call it Beowulf's mound, when the Brentings 
drive afar over the darkness of the floods." With 
a description of this mound, and of the obse- 
quies of the hero, the poem concludes. 

Ellis, in his Metrical Romances, has noticed 



Xll INTRODUCTION. 

Guy of Warwick and Bevis of Hampton as 
founded on Saxon tradition. To these several 
others may probably be added ; for the discovery 
of the Beowulf has satisfactorily proved the exist- 
ence of genuine Metrical Romance amongst our 
Teutonic ancestors. The character of the Anglo- 
Saxon " gleeman," or minstrel, seems to have 
differed in but few particulars from the later 
Jongleur of the Norman aera: mimicry, dancing, 
and tumbling, together with slight of hand, and 
other deceptions, were added to their harp- 
playing and recitations ; and the " Tregetour " of 
Chaucer, who 

" Within an Hall large 
Could make come in water and a barge, 
And in the Hall rowen up and down, 
Sometyme hath seemed a grim lyon, 
And somtyme flouris spring as in a mede, 
Sometyme a vine, and grapes white and rede, 
Sometyme a castell of lyme and stone, 
And when hem lyked, voyden hem anon," 

was the lineal descendent of the more ancient 
master of the "gai science." 

With the accession of the Conqueror, however, 
a decided alteration took place in the character 
of Romantic Poetry. It is to the provinces of 
Normandy and Bretagne that we are to look 
as the great cradles of the genuine romances of 
chivalry. The Northmen who with Rollo in- 
vaded that district, undoubtedly brought with 



INTRODUCTION. Xlll 

them the scalds and harpers of their native 
country ; and these were in their turn influenced 
by the Bards and Jongleurs of Celtic origin, who 
still existed in the north of France. Great 
accessions to the Bardic lore of Armorica, un- 
doubtedly resulted from the numerous emigra- 
tions from Britain during the fifth and sixth 
centuries, and the bard was an important per- 
sonage in the " following" of every Celtic Chief 
who left the shores of Cambria to form elsewhere 
for himself an hereditary possession. Taliesin 
himself, " the radiant front," the great chief of 
the Bards and Druids of the west, is said, by 
GeorTry of Monmouth, to have followed the 
exiled Britons to Armorica ; and Lobineau gives 
the legend of Hyvarnion, a Welch bard, who 
was conducted by an angel to the bank of 
a stream near which he discovered the maiden 
destined to become his bride, from whom a 
long succession of Armoric Bards date their 
origin. Constant intercourse, moreover, was 
kept up between Armorica and the Celtic dis- 
tricts of Britain ; a fact to which allusion is 
probably made in the legend commemorating the 
visit of Guenclan the Armorican Arch-Druid, to 
Merlin Wyllt in the Caledonian Forest. 

The existence of a great body of Druidic fable, 
probably designed for those about to be initiated 
to the mysteries and containing higher truths 
and traditions under the veil of fiction, seems 



XIV INTRODUCTION. 

sufficiently established. With the exception, 
perhaps, of some few of the singularly curious 
ballads edited by the Cte. de la Villemarque, 
it would be difficult to particularize any existing 
Romance as being directly drawn from this 
source. It is here, however, that we must look 
for the origin of the Arthuric cycle of Romance, 
as well as of the supernatural incidents which 
occur in the poems of the Trouveres who fre- 
quented the courts of our Anglo-Norman kings. 
The scene of the most remarkable incidents of 
this nature is constantly laid either in Armorica 
or the Celtic districts of Britain, and the mys- 
terious forest of Broceliant, which seems to have 
extended to the woods of Rosmah, beyond the 
Seine, near Rouen; and to the sea coast oppo- 
site St. Michel, constantly occurs as the peculiar 
haunt of all the long train of spiritual beings 
which figure in the pages of the Romances. 
This forest, it may be confidently asserted, was 
one of those mysterious wildernesses originally 
connected with the ancient Druid worship. The 
symbolization of a great religious system under 
the idea of a tree which overshadows the universe 
occurs in more than one of the ancient mytho- 
logies ; and more particularly in those countries 
which may be supposed to have had the closest 
connexion with the Celtic tribes. This image, 
however, assumes various forms according to 
the different countries in which it is found. In 



INTRODUCTION. XV 

central Asia, the Shah Nameh commemorates 
the nursing of Feridun by the Iridescent Cow in 
the Garden of Birds; an evident allusion to the 
initiation to the mysteries : and Midas is said 
to have become acquainted with the language of 
birds in a rose garden at the foot of Mount 
Bermius. In western Europe this mysterious 
rose garden is reproduced in the Heldenbuch ; 
and Laurin, the mighty dwarf king of the hills 
and valleys, holds his court therein. 

" He dwells among the mountains, and rules with royal 

might, 
What though his form be little, he bears him like a knight; 
Should hundred armed champions against him wage 

the fight, 
They would fall in fearful jeopardy, before that little wight: 
For two and thirty years he has graithed a spacious mead, 
And a garden fair has planted all with the roses red ; 
A silken line is drawn around ; there many a champion 

good 
Upon the blooming meadow has shed his purple blood. 
Four portals to the garden lead, and when the gates are 

closed, 
No living wight dare touch a rose, 'gainst his strict com- 
mand opposed, 
Whoe'er would break the golden gates, or cut the silken 

thread, 
Or would dare to crush the flowers down beneath his tread, 
Soon for his pride would leave to pledge a foot and 

hand, 
Thus Laurin, King of Dwarfs, rules within his land."' 

1 Heldenbuch, S. 4. " The Garden of Roses." 



XVI INTRODUCTION. 

In the mythology of the Edda, the Ash Tree 
Yggdrasil represents the universe. Its branches 
spread over the world, and reach to heaven, and 
under it the gods hold their assemblies of justice. 
In the branches sits an eagle of great wisdom, 
with a hawk named Veirlafner between his eyes. 
The Nornir daily pour water from the Urda 
fountain over the ash, to preserve the freshness 
of its leaves. A link between the Eddaic system 
and that of the Celts, seems to occur in the 
myth of Iduna's Golden Apples, the taste of 
which at once restored the Gods to their pristine 
youth; for it is in the " Avellanau" or Apple 
Wood of Merdhin, that we find the Celtic idea 
most clearly marked — the typifying, namely, of 
the Druidic system under the form of a wood or 
forest, an idea which is again indicated in the 
sprig or tree alphabet of Ireland. 1 

That the wood of Broceliant, said by the Cte. 
de la Villemarque to mean "wood of the Hermit," 
was one of the mysterious tracts regarded as in 
some measure the type of the whole mythology 
of the Druids, is proved, if by no other evidence, 
from the number and importance of the ancient 
stone monuments which it contains ; as well as 



1 When the Queen of Fairy is conducting True Thomas 
to the joys of " fair Elfiand," she hestows on him the gift of 
the " tongue that could not lie," by the taste of an apple, 
winch grew in an enchanted garden " where was fruyte in 



INTRODUCTION. XVII 

from the traces of Druidism occurring in the 
Romances, the scene of which is therein laid,— 
and which we shall subsequently notice. Indeed 
all the great tracts of forest land in the north 
and west of England, as well as in the more 
northern districts of France, seem to have been 
of a similar character. The enormous oaks in 
the forest of Ardennes, covered with mistletoe, 
and occupying an immense extent of country, 
formed, according to Michelet, the " sylvan 
lodge" of Tristan and la belle Yseult; 1 and the 
woods about Mont fort and Paimport contained in 
their deep glades and mysterious recesses won- 
ders such as might well satisfy the most daring 
knight who went forth " to seeken aventure by dale 
and down." The " Sylva Caledonia/' again, is 
the scene of innumerable legends of King Arthur 
and his court : and the whole of the north of 
England and south of Scotland, districts which 
continued purely Celtic to a very late period, 
abound in the favourite localities of Romance. 
Near Carlisle is the Round Table of Arthur ; 
Bamborough was the " Chastel Orgeilleux," and 
Berwick the " Chateau de la joyeuse Garde," the 
favourite habitation of Sir Lancelot. Merlin 



gTeyte plente." In the Vita Merlini of Geoffry, certain 

poisoned apples are found by a hunting party in the woods of 

Argustli, which cause all to lose their senses who eat of them. 

1 Histoire de France, vol. ii. 

C 



XV111 INTRODUCTION. 

lies buried at Drummelziar. Galloway was the 
patrimony of the celebrated Gawain ; and at 
Meigle in Angus, tradition yet points out the 
tomb of " Dame Ganore," the beautiful Ladye 
Guenever. 1 In the west again the same per- 
sonages occur, and the same well known localities. 
The forest of the Dartmoors — theancient "Jugum 
Ocrinum," which extends from the centre of 
Devonshire far down into the " pays de Corn- 
uaille," contains some of the most remarkable 
specimens of ancient British remains which are 
to be met with. The emrys, or circle; the 
clachan, or village ; the avenue of upright stones, 
both in parallel lines, and in a serpentine form, 
as well as the cromlech and the cairn, occur 
here in profusion. On its borders is the far- 
famed castle of Tintagel, seated on a wild 
promontory, and looking out over the western 
ocean, round the ruined turrets of which the 
spirit of the British king is yet flying imprisoned 
in the form of a sea-bird. The forest of Dartmoor 
is apparently noticed in the Romance of Sir 
Lancelot, where it is said that Merlin, through 
the magic art of the fay Vivienne, lies asleep in 
a cave within the " perilous forest of Darnantes, 
on the borders of the sea of Cornwall." 2 The 



1 Gordon, Iter Septentrionale. See tlipse and other seats 
of Romance noticed by Ellis, Metrical Romances, vol. i. 

2 In the Romance of Merlin, the place of his imprison- 



INTRODUCTION. XIX 

exact spot of his repose was, however, unknown, 
and even the courteous Sir Gawaine, who, after 
his enchantment had some conversation with 
him, was obliged to depart without the gratifi- 
cation of a single look. Traditions of King 
Arthur are yet current in this wild tract, and 
amongst the " indignant hills" which " yet old 
names preserve," one of the loftiest heights is 
known by the name of "Arthur Tor." 

The name of " Broceliant," whilst it was 
undoubtedly that of the great forest of Bretagne, 
seems nevertheless to have been a general ap- 
pellation of all these mysterious districts. The 
incidents which occur in the Romances whose 
scene is laid therein, have been already men- 
tioned as exhibiting decided traces of Druidism. 
Amongst these, the poem of Chrestien de Troyes, 
entitled " Le Chevalier au Lion," is the most 
remarkable. The legend on which this Ro- 
mance is founded was one of those most widely 
spread throughout Europe, and versions occur 
in English, Welch, German, Danish, Swedish, 
and Islandic. The Welch version, however, 
contained in the Mabinogion, and but recently 
edited for the first time by Lady Charlotte Guest, 
exhibits marks of higher antiquity than any of 



ment is said to be in a white thorn bush within the forest 
of Broceliand. In the " prophecies of Merlin," it is in the 
wood of Arvantes, in a tomb which he had constructed for 
himself. 



XX INTRODUCTION. 

the others; thus the principal personages are 
constantly represented as wearing robes of bright 
yellow, the sacred or solar colour, and the 
scene is not laid expressly in the forest of Bro- 
celiant, but in some unknown and mysterious 
tract of woodland. The same myth occurs 
apparently in the story ofKingUtherPendragon 
and the Duchess Igerna; 1 and the northern 
Romance of Sir Eger, Sir Grahame, and Sir 
Greysteel, turns on a similar incident — a fight, 
namely, with a knight who has far more affinity 
with the ancient " Spirit of Loda" than with 
any more mortal hero. 

The enchanted fountain of Barenton,by pour- 
ing whose water on an "emerald stone" the 
" Knight of the Lion" raises a storm of un- 
exampled horror, is eminently the property of the 
Druids, who had the complete control of the 
whirlwind and the tempest. Whilst St. Columba 
was at the Palace of Brude, King of the Picts, 
he was asked by Broichan, the chief Druid, when 
he intended returning to Iona? In three days, 
was the reply, " Deo volente, et vita comite ; " 
" That may not be," answered Broichan, " for I 
will raise a storm with thick mists and darkness." 
By the prayers of the Saint, however, the malig- 
nity of the Druid was defeated, and no sooner 



1 Morte d'Artlmr, book i., ch. 1. 2. 



INTRODUCTION. XXI 

had he embarked than the wind became pros- 
perous. 2 

The incident which gives name to the Romance, 
the fight of the Lion and the Serpent, cannot be 
immediately traced to a mythological source ; it 
occurs, however, in an ancient Danish Ballad, 
where Dietrich of Bern finds a " linden worm" in 
fierce combat with a lion, 3 and in the Morte 
d'Arthur, Sir Percival de Galles "came one 
day into a valley where a lion was fighting with 
a serpent which had carried off one of his whelps. 
Syr Percyval thoughte to helpe the lyon, for he 
was the more naturel beeste of the two, and 
therewith he drewe his swerd, and sette hys 
shelde afore hym, and ther he gaf the serpent 
such a buffet that he had a dedely wound." 4 

2 Adaranan Vita S. Columbae, Canisius, vol. i. p. 695. 
In the sixteenth century, this power of ruling the storm was 
transferred to the witches through their great king: the 
process is described by Nicolaus Remigius, according to the 
confession of a certain " Dekker Maygeth." The fording place 
of a stream or river was generally chosen, over which waxen 
torches of a blue colour were held obliquely until they en- 
tirely melted. Medicated powders were then thrown into 
the stream, and the witches having been presented with 
long black rods by the Evil One, beat the water violently, 
uttering at intervals mysterious charms and incantations. 
These being concluded, the whole air suddenly became dark, 
and enormous hailstones fell wherever the witches desired. 
(Nicholai Remigii Demonolatreia, 1. i. ch. 25.) 

3 Jamieson and Weber's Northern Antiquities, p. 225. 

4 Morte d'Arthur, b. xiv. ch, 6. 



XX11 INTRODUCTION. 

A very remarkable illustration of the story is to 
be found in the Magnum Chronicum Belgicum. 
During the stay of the crusading army in 
Antioch, after the capture of that city (1098), a 
French knight, named Geoffroi de la Tour, 
discovered in a forest a lion which an enormous 
serpent had enveloped in its coils. He killed 
the serpent, and the lion followed him during 
the remainder of the crusade, and when after 
the taking of Jerusalem the crusaders embarked 
to return to Europe, he swam for some time after 
the vessel in which was Geoffroi de la Tour. 1 

But perhaps the most remarkable cycle* of 
Romance which is capable of being in some 
measure traced to a Celtic source, is that com- 
memorating the adventures of the Knights of the 
Round Table in search of the Sangreal. Although 
it is sufficiently clear from the "Perceval" of 
Wolfram von Eschenbach, that a fresh version 
of the legend was introduced from the east, — 
either with the worship of Mithras during the 
decline of paganism, or by the Arabs through 
Spain — yet the mysterious vessel, which none 
but a knight of spotless name might hope to 
discover, is found in the older mythologies of 
the west. In the prose Edda, the mead of Sut- 
tung formed of honey mixed with the blood of a 
being named Quasir, is of so rare a quality, that 

1 M. Chronicum Belgicum in Pistorius. 



INTRODUCTION. XXlll 

whoever drinks it will become a poet and a wise 
man ; Odin acquires it by stratagem, and conveys 
it to Asgard under the form of an eagle. 2 In the 
Druidic system, Ceridwen, goddess of various 
seeds, possesses a cauldron of "Awen a Gwy- 
bodeu," water of inspiration and sciences; it is 
watched by Gwyon the little for a year and a 
clay, at the expiration of which time three drops 
of the water fly out of the cauldron on Gwyon's 
hand. The heat compels him to put it to his 
mouth, and he immediately becomes wise in 
every event of futurity. He flies and is pursued 
by Ceridwen ; various transformations take place, 
and he is at length devoured under the form of 
a grain of wheat by the goddess, who had 
assumed the shape of a hen. A cup or vase of 
similarly mysterious character was the property 
of the ancient nymphs, and is also found amongst 
the "wood ladies," or "wild women" of Germany 
and the Bohemian forests, from whom it seems 
to have passed to the fairies of England. In the 
centre of the forest of Dean was a small grassy 
mound, clear of trees, to the top of which hunters 
were accustomed to ascend, and on repeating the 
words " I thirst," a cup-bearer suddenly appeared 
"with a cheerful countenance and a stretched 
out hand, bearing a great horn adorned with 
gold and precious stones, as the manner is among 

2 Braga-raedur, Ed. Snor. Hava-raal. Ed. Socmund. 



XXIV INTRODUCTION. 

the most ancient English, wherein was presented 
drink of an unknown but most sweet taste." 
This horn was at last retained by a certain 
knight and presented to Henry I. It continued 
to be filled with the vintage of Fairy Land, until 
a holy name was uttered over it, when it suddenly 
became empty ; and it is evident that the cup of 
the Sangraal, which when brought into the halls 
of King Pecheur had the power of producing 
for every knight present " whatsoever meat and 
drink he liked best in the world/' is but a 
repetition of this most ancient legend. 

Such were the materials from which GeofTry 
of Monmouth compiled his celebrated history, 
and which, in great measure originally conveyed 
from Britain to Armorica during the emigrations 
of the fifth and sixth centuries, were restored to 
their native soil by the Trouveres who thronged 
the halls of our early Norman kings. 

The compositions of the Anglo-Norman Trou- 
veres were however considerably varied both in 
form and manner from what we may suppose 
those of " the olde gen til Bretons'' to have been : 
the chief and most laboured was the " Roman 
de la Chevallerie," properly so called, the 
" Chanson des Gestes," commemorating the real 
or imaginary deeds of high emprize of some 
favourite hero, and sung by the Jongleur to the 
accompaniment of the harp, viol, or rote ; for it 
is always with one of these instruments that they 



INTRODUCTION. XXV 

are represented in the manuscripts. These 
Romances have been divided by the Abbe de la 
Hue into — 

1. Those of the Round Table, the history of 
King Arthur and his Knights: these may be 
subdivided into those of the Round Table, pro- 
perly so called, as the Brut d'Angleterre; those 
of the Siege Perilouse, as Gawain, Merlin, Meli- 
adus de Leonnais, &c; and lastly those of the 
Saint Graal, as Tristan, Lancelot du Lac, Percival 
le Gallois, &c. 

2. The Romances of Charlemagne: containing 
the legendary history of that Emperor and his 
Paladins. The principal of these are the Romance 
attributed to the false Turpin, Ogier le Danois, 
Garin de Lorraine, and Guillaume d' Acquitaine. 

3. The long list of Romances which come under 
neither of the previous heads : the Roman de la 
Viollette, Robert le Diable, &c. 

Each of these Romances was divided into 
portions of a moderate length, called branches, 
at the end of which the Jongleur ceased, or 
another took his place; seventeen of these 
branches occur in the Romance of Percival, and 
twenty in that of Garin de Montglaive : portions 
of the story were occasionally read, as was the 
case with the entire composition if the recitation 
took place to amuse some knight who had been 
wounded in the tournay, or a more serious field. 

The list of names given to the shorter poems 



XXVI INTRODUCTION. 

of the Jongleurs is in itself curious. Most of 
these compositions, however, are evidently of a 
later date than the genuine Romance. They 
were Chansons, Rotruenges, Balletes or Ballades, 
Bergerettes or Pastourelles, li Rondel or Ron- 
deaux, Saluts, Complaintes, Estampies or Es- 
tampelles, Equivoques, Fables, Fabliaux, Contes, 
Serventois, Satires, Jeux Partis, Dits or Dictie*, 
&c. &c. 

Of these, the " Chansons" are, perhaps, the 
most interesting, and seem to be the most genuine 
representatives of the Breton " Lai." After the 
battle of Hastings, the victory of the Conqueror 
was celebrated by the Jongleurs in their * Chan- 
sons/' and the deeds of Henry I. were com- 
memorated in the "Chansons" of the Jongleur 
David. 

The following very curious Anglo-Norman 
Chanson de Noel, or Christmas Carol, is a 
remarkable specimen of this species of poem. 
It is of the thirteenth century. 

Seignors ore entendez a nuz, 
De loin sumes venus a vus 

Pur quere Noel ; 
Car Ten nus dit qu'en cet hostel 
Soleit tenir sa feste annuel 
A icel jor; 

Dieu doint a tuz icels joie d'amor 
Qui a Dan Noel feront honor. 



INTRODUCTION. 

Seignors, je vus di por veir 
Ke Dan Noel ne velt aveir 

Si joie non, 
Et replenir sa maison 
De pain, de char et de peison 
Por faire honor. 

Dieu doint a tuz, &c. 

Seignors il est crie en l'ost 
Que cil qui despent bien et tost 

Et largement 
Et fait les grans honors savent, 
Dien li duble quan qu'il despent 

Por faire honor. 

Dieu doint a tuz, &c. 

Seignors, escriez les malveis, 
Vus ne les trouverez jameis 

De bonne part 
Botun, batun, ferun Guinard, 
Car toz diz a le euer coward 

Por faire honor. 

Dieu doint a tuz, &c. 

Noel beit bien li vin engleis 
Et li gascoin et li franceis 

Et T angevin, 
Noel fait boire son veisin 
Si qu'il se dort le chief enclin 

Savent le jor 

Dieu doint a tuz, &c. 

Seignors, je vus di par Noel 
Et par li sir de cest hotel, 
Ca bevez bien : 



XXV111 INTRODUCTION. 

Et je primis beurai le mien 

Et puis apres chacun le sien 

Par mon conseil; 

Si je vus di trestoz Wasseil 

De hais ert qui ne dira Drincheil. 1 

It must not be imagined that the recitation of 
the romance poems was confined to the Jongleurs 
themselves. Skill in harp playing was esteemed 
one of the necessary qualifications of the perfect 
knight, and a knowledge of Romances was a proof 
of " gentillesse and courtoisie ;" Sir Tristem is 
welcomed to the court of Arthur as most skilled 
in music : " Thenne came Quene Guenever, and 
many e ladyes with her, and alle the laydyes sayden 
at one voyce, welcome Syr Tristrem, welcome 
sayde the damosels; welcome sayde knyghtes; 
welcome sayde Arthur, for one of the best 
knyghtes, and the genttlyst of the world, and 
the manne of most worschip, for all manner of 
huntynge thou beryst the pryce, and of all 
mesures of blowynge thou art the begynnynge, 
andofallethetermesofhuntyngeandofhawkynge 
ye are the begynner, and of all instruments of 
musicke ye are the beste, therefore, gentyl 
knyghte, sayde Arthur, ye are welcome to thys 
courte." 8 Constant references occur in the 

1 Br. Mus. Bibl. reg. 16. E. viij. Essais Historiques sur 
les Bardes, les Jongleurs et les Trouveres, par l'Abbe De 
La Rue, torn. i. pp. 196, 7, 8. 

2 Morte d' Arthur. 



INTRODUCTION. XXIX 

Romances to this knightly accomplishment : in 
the Roman de la Violette, Gerard de Nevers is 
said to have been 

" le miel cantans 

qui onques mais fust a son tans." 

And in that of " Home Childe and Maiden 
Riminild," the hero assumes the character of a 
minstrel, and by means of his " gleyinge" or 
minstrelsy is admitted to the castle in which the 
princess Ryminild is confined. 

Besides the various species of composition 
which have been mentioned above, there existed 
long metrical lives of Saints, versions of the 
Scriptures, and " moral Romances," which were 
sung by the Jongleurs on Sundays and festivals. 
At the commencement of most of these religious 
poems is placed the confession of the Trouvere, 
"that they were composed as an expiation for 
any improprieties in their lighter pieces." The 
clergy, however, seem to have condemned this 
class of poems, although they encouraged the 
mysteries and moralities, which, spite of the 
prohibitions of bishops and councils, continued 
to be performed even in churches as late as the 
sixteenth century ; and Mabillon complains that 
the legends of the Saints had suffered more from 
alterations and additions in Normandy and 
Armorica, than in any other province of France. 

From the various compositions of the Norman 



XXX INTRODUCTION. 

Minstrels, which we have thus far noticed, by 
far the greater number of the early English 
Romances of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, 
are translated. French, however, continued to 
be the language of the court, at least until the 
reign of Edward III., and it was only very 
gradually that the English language assumed 
any thing that can be called regularity. The 
priority of the northern to the southern English 
dialect was asserted by Sir Walter Scott, and as 
positively denied by Price, in a note on " Sir 
Tristrem," appended to his edition of Wart on. 
One fact, however, seems clearly ascertained — 
that if any English Romances do exist, which 
have not a Norman French original, they are 
the compositions of Northern Minstrels. Such in 
all probability are the fragments of" Sir Gawain" 
and " Sir Galaron," published by Pinkerton ; 
the Romances previously noticed as perhaps of 
Saxon origin, Home Childe, and the adventures 
of Wade mentioned by Chaucer. But it is in 
the early English Ballad poetry that we find the 
most decided marks of the original Teutonic 
spirit ; from the earliest ages the genuine Ballad 
existed in the north ; Charlemagne is said to 
have collected the songs commemorating the 
wars and heroic deeds of the ancient kings. 
Jornandes asserts the historical authority of the 
ancient Ballads of the Goths, and the deeds of 
Arminius are expressly said by Tacitus to have 



INTRODUCTION. XXXI 

been sung amongst his countrymen ; we may 
easily suppose, therefore, that while the lordly 
Romance was chanted to the harp in the great 
hall of the baron's castle, and 

" Fair dames and crested chiefs attention bowed," 

the Ballad might still be heard beside the winter 
hearth of the peasant, or beneath the " trusty tree" 
of the greenwood. The celebrated Chanson de 
Roland, sung by Taillefer at the battle of Hastings, 
if we may form an idea of it from the poem on 
the same subject edited by Michel, partook far 
more of the character of the Ballad than of the 
Romance; and GeofFry Vinisauf mentions the 
" populares cantiones antiquorum praeclara gesta 
celebrantes," sung by the soldiers on the arrival 
of Richard I. at Ptolemais. 

The early compositions of this class, as well as 
of the Romance, or " Chanson des gestes," seem 
to have been purely historical ; and it was only 
gradually that they ceased to adhere strictly to 
the actual tradition, and bestowed any embel- 
lishments on the facts which they narrated. But 
the intercourse of the various European nations, 
the solitude of the cloister, and the gradual 
revival of literature developed new forms, and a 
class of poets arose, whose talent was more inde- 
pendent of tradition, though scarcely of antiquity ; 
for whilst they arranged the adventures of their 
hero as best suited their purpose, they neverthe- 



XXXll INTRODUCTION. 

less professed to take as the groundwork of their 
labours, some chronicle or " Boke of Gestes" which 
might at least exhibit the semblance of historical 
truth. 

If the early existence of ballad poetry amongst 
the European nations were incapable of proof 
from any other source, the strong resemblance 
that exists between the popular songs of the 
various Gothic and Teutonic races would be 
sufficient to place this fact beyond a doubt. In 
the ballads of Denmark, Sweden, and Scotland 
is found, according to Jamieson, " a phraseology 
which has long been obsolete in those countries, 
and many terms not understood by those who 
recite them, for the meaning of which we must 
refer to the Norse or Islandic of the eighth and 
ninth centuries." 1 

This resemblance extends in a remarkable 
manner to the subjects of the poems, and incidents 
which are distinctly localized in Sweden and 
Norway, are reproduced in the lowlands of 
Scotland ; the history of " Lord Thomas and 
Fair Annie," is found in the Swedish " Folk 
Visor," and in the Danish " Viser fra Middelal- 
deren." The ancient Scottish ballad of " Hind 
Etin" is direcdy indebted to the poetic Edda ; 
and the fine old legend of the "Douglas Tragedy" 
is found both in Islandic, Danish, and Swedish. 

1 Weber's Illustrations of Northern Antiquities. 



INTRODUCTION. XXX111 

This ballad is a singular instance of that passion 
for fixing the events of a popular story in some 
well known locality, as well as of attaching them 
to some family of power and importance, which 
characterizes all early poetry; whole districts 
have in this manner been made the fairy ground 
of legend and romance, and all the floating 
tradition of the earliest times has been gathered 
round particular persons in some way promi- 
nently connected with the country. The " won- 
drous Wizard" who "cleft Eildon's triple height," 
as well as the Knight of Ercildoune, the remains 
of whose ancient tower are yet to be seen on 
the banks of the Leader, are instances in proof. 
There is scarcely a legend on Tweedside but has 
some connexion with " Master Michael Scott," or 
" Thomas the Rhymer." 

There is a remarkable contrast between the 
English and Scottish Ballad Poetry; a contrast 
which is to be attributed to the different character 
of the two countries, as well as to the different 
habits of life of the English and Scottish Min- 
strels. It has been remarked that " in every 
country, where there are national legends, they 
are always deeply and vividly impressed with a 
feeling of the magnificence or the loneliness in 
the midst of which they have arisen ; and such 
primitive poetical legends will hardly be found 
except in the bosom of a beautiful country, grow- 
ing up in it, and pendent from it, almost like fruit 



XXXIV INTRODUCTION. 

from a tree/" To this it may be added, that 
the distinctive character of any particular district 
may always be traced in the ballads whose scene 
is laid therein. The domestic features of" Merry 
England," her rich tracts of highly cultivated 
land, stretching for miles along the banks of 
many a stream and rivulet, famous in song and 
ballad ; the gray towers of her abbeys and 
minsters, rising above the thick branches of oak 
and elm; the hamlet sleeping in some lonely 
spot amongst the hills, in a little world of its 
own; and the cluster of low cottages nestling 
beneath the shelter of some " old ancestral hall ;" 
all these contributed to impress on the English 
ballad a character of repose and quiet, which we 
do not find in the wilder minstrelsy of the Border. 
The wide extent of the " shadowy forests" again, 
especially in the more northern districts, could 
not fail to impress the imagin ation of the "makers," 
and we find them luxuriating in descriptions of 

the 

" merry greenwood 
Beneath the leves grene, 
"Whereas men shoot both east and west 
With bowes and arrowes kene/' 

Their favourite heroes were some band of out- 
laws 

" Idling in the greneschawe," 



Guesses at Truth, First Series, p. 48. 



INTRODUCTION. XXXV 

and well indeed might the greatest of modern 
poets give to Robin Hood the name of 

" The English Ballad-singer's joy." 

The wild and lonely character of the Border 
scenery, again, is not less strongly impressed on 
the local ballads. The rude peel tower standing 
on the heather-clad side of some deep glen, 
above the rocky bed of the mountain stream; the 
long tracts of gray moor covered with broken 
masses of rock, and constantly veiled in the 
mists which float across them, harmonize per- 
fectly with the wild legends of Border chivalry 
and warfare ; and it is not until we have stood 
amongst the low hills and lonely wastes of the 
country at the foot of the Cheviots, that we can 
feel truly how the "olde songe of Percie and 
Douglas" has power to move the heart "more 
than the sound of a trumpet." It is in subjects 
of this nature that the distinctive character of the 
Scottish and Border ballad is most strongly 
brought out; their minstrels delighted in the 

" blaws that bauldly rang, 
And the arrowes whidderan that ran by," 

and every fray of one clan with the men of 
another was " fought over again" in song. On 
the other hand, the English ballads are marked 
by a species of melancholy throughout, as though 
they touched on these subjects only as 
" Old unhappy far off things," 



XXXVI INTRODUCTION. 

only when time had worked with them as with 
some old tower, softening that into beauty, — 

"Which when it frowned with all its battlements 
Was only terrible." 

The influence of the Romance and Ballad on 
the civilization and general literature of Europe 
is a subject which demands far more space than 
we can at present give to it. The actual inter- 
course of the European nations during the middle 
ages was probably more extensive, and certainly 
far more intimate, than at present; and the 
Trouvere seems to have regarded every one as 
a brother, who was, equally with himself, a pro- 
fessor of the "gai science." Large bodies of 
minstrels wandered from one court to another, 
and constant references to the " lands they had 
seen," occur in their poems. In the year 1000, 
the marriage of Constance of Provence with 
Robert brought a crowd of Provencal Trouba- 
dours to the court of France, and a hundred 
and fifty years afterwards, the marriage of 
Eleonore of Acquitaine with Louis VII. of 
France, and subsequently with Henry of Eng- 
land, spread the same poetical compositions 
and ideas over France and England. The fes- 
tivities which celebrated these marriages, as well 
as those which took place on the reception of 
princes and nobles into the order of Knights, 
were announced long beforehand, and minstrels 
flocked to them from the remotest countries, in 



INTRODUCTION. XXXV11 

the hope of acquiring " largesse" and renown. 
Richard I. brought Jongleurs from France for 
the purpose of singing his deeds of" derring do," 
and the Minnesingers of Germany were distin- 
guished for their habits of wandering. Oriental 
ideas and imagery were probably in some ex- 
tent diffused throughout Europe by the inter- 
vention of Spain, and the cycle of Amadis has 
long been assigned to that country. 

The ancient reverence for the Bard, as the 
recorder of the warrior's deeds of valour and 
chivalry, continued far down into the middle ages. 
It is to this that we are indebted for the whole 
of the cycle of Romance relative to Charlemagne, 
as well as for the later Romance Chronicles of 
Wace, Beneit de St. Maur, and (xeoffroi Gaimar. 
" Par la greffe Dieu," exclaimed the Count de 
Soissons on the battle field of Mansourah, " nous 
parlerons encore de cette journee, en chambree 
devant les dames." 1 The knights who accom- 
panied Godefroi de Bologne in the first, and 
Philippe Auguste in the third crusade, took 
with them their hawks and hounds, wherewith 
to recreate themselves, and their minstrels to 
commemorate their deeds; and in every great 
family there was kept a register of the exploits 
of each knight as recounted by himself. 2 It is 



1 Joinville, Histoire de St. Louis. 

2 Sainte Palaye, Mem. sur la Cheval. This custom was 
continued until the reign of Charles VII. 



XXXV111 INTRODUCTION. 

obvious to what an extent the Minstrel must 
have influenced the arm and the courage of the 
" very perfyte gentyl Knyght." 

The later Trouveres however, and especially 
the Germans, had an object in view in their 
compositions, which has been but little noticed 
by modern writers. "They endeavoured/' says 
Schlegel, "under the form of Arthur and his 
Knights (in whom was supposed to be repre- 
sented the perfection of all chivalrous virtue), to 
shadow forth the idea of a spiritual knighthood, 
true, like that other chivalry, to the obligations 
of a solemn vow, proving itself like it by achiev- 
ments and by suffering, and rising like it, by 
slow and gradual advances, to the summit of its 
perfection. Thjs idea, however, is not allowed 
to interfere with the external rules of their fic- 
tion, or to make them sacrifice any of those ad- 
ventures and wonders of love and war in the 
east and the west, from which the poetry of those 
days derived its most favourite embellishments. 
Under the name of St. Graal, there is brought 
together a whole train of such allegorical deeds 
of chivalry ; the knight is represented as labouring 
by incessant exertions to make himself worthy 
of gaining access to the holy places; and the 
deliverance of these is supposed to be the highest 
aim of his calling : and yet there is every reason 
to believe, that in all these poems the object was 
not merely to shadow out a spiritual and allego- 



INTRODUCTION. XXXIX 

rical chivalry, but also to embody the peculiar 
ideas of a spiritual and yet a real chivalry, which 
was then in all its glory — the chivalry of the 
religious orders of knighthood, such as the Tem- 
plars and the Knights of St. John." 1 

That this interpretation of the Romances is 
one perfectly in harmony with the spirit of the 
age which produced them, no one who has 
made the middle ages his study, can for a mo- 
ment doubt. The progress of the hero throughout 
is that of the "Red Cross Knight" of Spenser: a 
passage through the most fearful dangers and 
difficulties, to a " land of rest" beyond, where 
his union with immortal truth, the "heavenly 
Una," is celebrated 

" With sacred rites and vows for ever to abide. 

" During the which there was an heavenly noise 

Heard sound through all the palace pleasantly, 

Like as it had been many an angel's voice, 

Singing before the Eternal Majesty 

In their trinal triplicities on hie ; — 

Yet wist no creature whence that heavenly sweet 

Proceeded ; yet each one felt secretly 

Himself thereby reft of his senses meet, 

And ravished with rare impression in his spreet. 

" Great joy was made that day of old and young, 
And solemn feast proclaimed throughout the land, 

1 F. Schlegel's Lectures on the History of Literature, 
p. 207, 208. 



xl INTRODUCTION. 

That their exceeding mirth may not be told. 

Suffice it here by signs to understand 

The usual joys at knitting of love's band — 

Thrice happy man the Knight himself did hold, 

Possessed of his Ladie's heart and hand ; 

And ever when his eye did her behold 

Her heart did seem to melt in pleasures manifold." 




ROBIN HOOD AND GUY 
OF GISBORNE. 




ffi$ft^ r €§\#? ^ this t y me ( Ri chd. I.) were 
many robbers and outlawes. 
among the which Robert Hood 
and Little John, renowned 
Theeves, continued in woods, 
dispoyling and robbing the 
goodes of theryche; they killed none bot such 
as wolde invade them, or by insistence for their 
owne defence. 

" The saide Robert intertained an hundred 
tall men, and good archers, with such spoils 
and thefts as he got, upon whom foure hundred 
(were they newer so stronge) durst not give the 
onset; Hee suffered no woman to be oppressed, 
or otherwise molested; poore men's goods he 
spared, aboundantlie releeving them with that, 



4 ROBIN HOOD AND 

which by thefte he got from Abbeyes, and the 
houses of ryche Earles; whom Major blameth 
for his rapine and theft ; but of alle theeves hee 
affirmeth him to bee the Prince, and the most 
gentle Theefe." Stowe's Chronicles, p. 150. 

To this need only be added the following 
beautiful passage from Drayton's Polyolbion : — 

"The merry pranks he play'd, would ask an age to tell, 
And the adventures strange that Robin Hood befell, 
When Mansfield many a time for Robin hath been laid, 
Howhe hath cousen'd them, that him would havebetray'd ; 
How often he hath come to Nottingham disguis'd, 
And cunningly escap'd, being set to be surpriz'd. 
In this our spacious Isle, I think there is not one, 
But he hath heard some talk of him and Little John ; 
And to the end of time, the tales shall ne'er be done, 
Of Scarlock, George a Green, and Much the miller's son, 
Of Tuck the merry friar, which many a sermon made 
In praise of Robin Hood, his outlaws, and their trade. 
An hundred valiant men had this brave Robin Hood, 
Still ready at his call, that bow-men were right good, 
All clad in Lincoln green, with caps of red and blue, 
His fellow's winded horn not one of them but knew, 
When setting to their lips their little beugles shrill, 
The warbling echos wak'd from every dale and hill. 
Their bauldricks set with studs, athwart their shoulders 

cast, 
To which under their arms their sheafs were buckled fast, 
A short sword at their belt, a buckler scarce a span, 
Who struck below the knee, not counted them a man: 
All made of Spanish yew, their bows were wondrous 

strong ; 



GUY OF GISBORNE. O 

They not an arrow drew, but was a cloth-yard long. 

Of archery they had the very perfect craft, 

With broad-arrow, or but, or prick, or roving shaft, 

At marks full forty score, they us'd to prick, and rove, 

Yet higher than the breast, for compass never strove ; 

Yet at the farthest mark a foot could hardly win : 

At long-outs, short, and hoyles, each one could cleave 

the pin: 
Their arrows finely pair'd, for timber, and for feather, 
With birch and brazil piec'd to fly in any weather ; 
And shot they with the round, the square, or forked pile, 
The loose gave such a twang, as might be heard a mile. 
And of these archers brave, there was not any one, 
But he could kill a deer his swiftest speed upon, 
Which they did boil and roast, in many a mighty wood, 
Sharp hunger the fine sauce to their more kingly food. 
Then taking them to rest, his merry men and he 
Slept many a summer's night under the greenwood tree. 
From wealthy abbots' chests, and churls' abundant store, 
What oftentimes he took, he shar'd amongst the poor; 
No lordly bishop came in lusty Robin's way, 
To him before he went, but for his pass must pay : 
The widow in distress he graciously reliev'd, 
And remedied the wrongs of many a virgin griev'd ; 
lie from the husband's bed no married woman wan, 
But to his mistress dear, his loved Marian, 
Was ever constant known, which whereso'er she came, 
Was sovereign of the woods ; chief lady of the game : 
Her clothes tuck'd to the knee, and dainty braided hair, 
With bow and quiver arm'd, she wander'd here and there, 
Amongst the forests wild, Diana never knew 
Such pleasures, nor such harts as Mariana slew." 



ROBIN HOOD AND GUY OF GISBORNE. 

WHEN shaws beene sheene, 1 and shades full 
And leaves both large and longe, [fayre, 
Itt is merrye walking in the fayre forrest 
To heare the small birdes songe. 

The woodvveele sang, and wold not cease, 

Sitting upon the spraye, 
Soe lowde, he wakened Robin Hood, 

In the greenwood where he lay. 

Now by my faye, sayd jollye Robin, 

A sweaven 2 1 had this night; 
I dreamt me of tow wighty yemen, 

That fast with me can fight. 

Methought they did mee beate and binde, 

And tooke my bow mee froe ; 
If I be Robin alive in this lande, 

lie be wroken on them towe. 

Sweavens are swift, Master, quoth John, 
As the wind that blowes ore a hill; 

For if itt be never so loude this night, 
To-morrow itt may be still. 



1 Woods are shining. 2 Dream, vision. 



ROBIN HOOD A>»D GUY OF G1SBORNE. 

Buske yee, bowne yee, my merry men all, 
And John shall goe with mee, 

For He goe seeke yond wight yeomen, 
In greenwood where they bee. 

Then they cast on their gownes of grene, 
And tooke theyr bowes each one ; 

And they away to the greene forrest 
A shooting forth are gone. 

Until they came to the merry greenwood, 
Where they had gladdest bee, 

There were they ware of a wight 1 yeoman, 
His body leaned to a tree. 

A sword and a dagger he wore by his side, 

Of manye a man the bane ; 
And he was clad in his capull hyde 2 

Topp and tayll and mayne. 

Stand you still, master, quoth Litle John, 

Under this tree so grene, 
And I will go to yond wight yeoman 

To know what he doth meane. 



1 btrong, stout. 

2 Horse hide. Capal or Capul (Erse), a mare — Keph) i 
(Welsh). Ritson. 



8 ROBIN HOOD AND 

Ah ! John, by me thou settest noe store, 

And that I farley l finde ; 
How ofFt send I my men beffore, 

And tarry myselfe behinde? 

It is no cunning a knave to ken, 
And a man but heare him speake ; 

And itt were not for bursting of my bowe, 
John, I thy head wold breake. 

As often wordes they breed en bale/ 
So they parted Robin and John ; 

And John is gone to Barnesdale : 
The gates 3 he knoweth eche one. 

But when he came to Barnesdale, 
Great heavinesse there hee hadd, 

For he found tow of his owne felloues 
Were slaine both in a slade. 4 

And Scarlette he was flyinge a-foote 

Fast over stocke and stone, 
For the sheriffe with seven score men 

Faste after him is gone. 



1 Wonder. 2 Make misci-ief. 

3 Passes. Gate is a common word in the north for way 
(Percy.) 

4 Glade. Breadth of greensward between woods. 



GUY OF GISBORNE. 

One shoote now I will shoote, quoth John, 
With Christ his might and mayne ; 

He make yond fellow that flyes soe fast. 
To stopp he shall be fayne. 

Then John bent up his long bende-bowe, 

And fetteled l him to shoote : 
The bow was made of a tender boughe, 

And f^.ll downe to his foote. 

Woe worth, woe worth thee, wicked wood, 

That ere thou grew on a tree ; 
For now this day thou art my bale, 

My boote when thou shold bee. 

His shoote it was but loosely shott, 
Yet flewe not the arrowe in vaine> 

For itt mett one of the sherifFes men, 
Good William a Trent was slaine. 

It had been better of William a Trent 
To have bene abed with sorrowe, 

Than to be that day in the green wood slade 
To meet with Little Johns arrowe. 

But as it is said, when men be mett 

Fyve can doe more than three, 
The sheriffe hath taken little John, 

And bound him fast to a tree. 

1 Made ready. 
E 



10 ROBIN HOOD AND 

Thou shalt be drawen by dale and downe, 

And hanged hye on a hill. 
But thou mayst fayle of thy purpose, quoth John, 

If itt be Christ his will. 

Let us leave talking- of Litle John, 

And thinke of Robin Hood, 
How he is gone to the wight yeoman, 

Where under the leaves he stood. 

Good morrowe, good fellowe, sayd Robin so fay re, 
" Good morrowe, good fellowe" quoth he : 

Methinkes by this bowe thou beares in thy hande 
A good archere thou sholdst bee. 

I am wilful] of my waye, quo' the yeman, 

And of my morning tyde. 
lie lead the through the wood, sayd Robin ; 

Good fellow, He be thy guide. 

I seeke an outlawe, the straunger sayd, 

Men call him Robin Hood ; 
Rather Pd meet with that proud outlawe 

Than fortye pound soe good. 

Now come with me, thou wighty yeman, 

And Robin thou soone shalt see : 
But first let us some pastime find 

Under the greenwood tree. 



GUY OF GISBORNE. 1 I 

First let us some masterye 1 make 

Among the woods so even, 
Wee may chance to meet with Robin Hood 

Here att some unsett steven. 2 

They cutt them downe two summer shroggs, 3 

That grew both under a breere, 
And sett them threescore rood in twaine 

To shoot the prickes 4 y-fere. 

Leade on, good fellowe, quoth Robin Hood, 

Leade on, I doe bidd thee. 
Nay by my faith, good fellowe, hee sayd, 

My leader thou shalt bee. 

The first time Robin shot at the pricke, 

He mist but an inch it froe : 
The yeoman he was an archer good, 

But he cold never shoote soe. 

The second shoote had the wightye yeman, 

He shote within the garland e : 5 
But Robin he shott far better than hee, 

For he clave the good pricke wande. 



1 Trial of skill. 2 At some unlooked for time. 

3 Thorns, briars. 4 Marks to shoot at. 

5 The ring within which the mark was set. 



12 ROBIN HOOD AND 

A blessing upon thy heart, he sayd ; 

Good fellowe, thy shooting is goode ; 
For an thy hart be as good as thy hand, 

Thou wert better then Robin Hoode. 

Now tell me thy name, good fellowe, sayd he, 

Under the leaves of lyne. 1 
Nay by my faith, quoth bolde Robin, 

Till thou have told me thine. 

I dwell by dale and downe, quoth hee, 
And Robin to take I'me sworne ; 

And when I am called by my right name 
I am Guye of good Gisborne. 

My dwelling is in this wood, sayes Robin, 

By thee I set right nought : 
I am Robin Hood of Barnesdale, 

Whom thou so long hast sought. 

He that had neither beene kithe nor kin, 
Might have seene a full fay re sight, 

To see how together these yeomen went 
With blades both browne and bright. 

To see how these yeomen together they fought 

Two howres of a summers day : 
Yett neither Robin Hood nor sir Guy 

Them fettled to flye away. 



The linden tree. 



GCJY OF GISBORNE. 13 

Robin was reachles ' on a roote, 

And stumbled at that tyde ; 
And Guy was quicke and nimble with-all, 

And hitt him ore the left side. 

Ah deere Lady, sayd Robin Hood, thou 

That art both mother and may, 
I think it was never mans destinye 

To dye before his day. 

Robin thought on our ladye deere, 

And soone leapt up againe, 
And strait he came with a backward stroke, 

And he sir Guy hath slayne. 

He took sir Guys head by the hayre, 
And sticked itt on his bowes end : 

Thou hast beene a traytor all thy liffe, 
Which thing must have an ende. 

Robin pulled forth an Irish kniffe, 

And nicked sir Guy in the face, 
That he was never on woman born, 

Cold tell whose head it was. 

Saies, Lye there, lye there, now sir Guye, 

And with me be not wrothe ; 
If thou have had the worse strokes at my hand, 

Thou shalt have the better clothe. 



Careless. 



14 ROBIN HOOD AND 

Robin did off his srowne of arreene, 

And on sir Guy did it throwe, 
And hee put on that capull hyde, 

That cladd him topp to toe. 

The bowe, the arrowes, and litle home, 

Now with me I will beare ; 
For I will away to Barnesdale, 

To see how my men doe fare. 

Robin Hood sett Guyes home to his mouth. 

And a loud blast in it did blow, 
That beheard the sheriffe of Nottingham, 

As he leaned under a lowe. 1 

Hearken, hearken, sayd the sheriffe, 

I heare nowe tydings good, 
For yonder I heare sir Guyes home blowe, 

And he hath slaine Robin Hoode. 

Yonder I heare sir Guyes home blowe, 

Itt blowes soe well in tyde, 
And yonder comes that wightye yeoman, 

Cladd in his capull hyde. 

Come hyther, come hyther, thou good sir Guy, 

Ask what thou wilt of mee. 
O I will none of thy gold, sayd Robin, 

Nor I will none of thy fee : 



1 A little bill. 



GUY OF GISBORNE. 15 

But now I have slaine the master, he saves, 

Let me goe strike the knave ; 
This is all the rewarde I aske ; 

Nor noe other will I have. 

Thou art a madman, said the sheriffe, 
Thou sholdest have had a knights fee : 

But seeing thy asking hath beene soe bad, 
Well granted it shale be. 

When Litle John heard his master speake, 

Well knevve he it was his Steven : 
Xow shall I be looset, quoth Litle John, 

With Christ his might in heaven. 

Fast Robin hee hyed him to Little John, 

He thought to loose him belive ; 
The sheriffe and all his companye 

Fast after him did drive. 

Stand abacke, stand abacke, sayd Robin ; 

Why draw you mee soe neere ? 
Itt was never the use in our countrye, 

Ones shrift another shold heere. 

But Robin pulled forth an Irysh kniffe, 

And losed John hand and foote, 
And gave him sir Guyes bow into his hand, 

And bade it be his boote. 



16 ROBIN HOOD AND GUY OF GISBORNE. 

Then John he took Guyes bow in his hand, 
His boltes and an'owes eche one : 

When the sheriffe saw Little John bend his bow., 
He fettled him to be gone. 

Towards his house in Nottingham towne, 

He fled full fast away ; 
And soe did all his companye : 

Not one behind wold stay. 

But he cold neither runne soe fast, 

Nor away soe fast cold ryde, 
But Little John with an arrowe soe broad 

He shot him into the syde. 







ADAM BELL, CLYM OF THE CLOUGH, 
AND WILLIAM OF CLOUDESLY. 




>0 other memorial of these cele- 
brated archers exists than the 
following ballad ; and the inci- 
dental notices of them in the 
poets of the sixteenth century- 
are very rare. 
The "English wood" which they are said to 
have frequented, is the forest of Inglewood, in 
Cumberland, sixteen miles in length, and reach- 
ing from Carlisle to Penrith : Edward I. whilst 
hunting in it, is said to have killed two hundred 
bucks in one day. It was disforested by Henry 
VIII. and is now "a dreary moor with high 
distant hills on both sides, and a few stone farm 
houses and cottages along the road." — Gough's 
Camden, vol. iii. p. 189. 
The text is that of Percy (Reliques, vol. i. p. 



18 ADAM BELL. 

160), corrected in some few instances by the edi- 
tion of Ritson (Ancient Popular Poetry). 

The following beautiful sonnet of Words- 
worth's is a fit preface to the ballad : — 

The forest huge of ancient Caledon 

Is but a name, nor more is Inglewood, 

That swept from hill to hill, from flood to flood : 

On her last thorn the nightly moon has shone ; 

Yet still, though unappropriate wild be none, 

Fair parks spread wide, where Adam Bell might deign 

With Clym o' the Clough, were they alive again, 

To kill for merry feast their venison. 

Nor wants the holy Abbot's gliding shade 

His church with monumental wreck bestrown; 

The feudal warrior chief, a ghost unlaid, 

Hath still his castle, though a skeleton, 

That he may watch by night, and lessons con 

Of power that perishes, and rights that fade. 



ADAM BELL, CLYM OF THE CLOUGH, 
AND WILLIAM OF CLOUDESLY. 



M 



FYTTE THE FIRST. 



ERY it was in the grene forest 
Among the leves grene, 



Wheras men hunt east and west 
Wyth bowes and arrowes kene ; 

To raise the dere out of theyr denne ; 

Suche sightes hath ofte bene sene ; 
As by thre yemen of the north countrey, 

By them it is I meane. 

The one of them hight Adam Bel, 
The other Clym of the Clough, 

The thyrd was William of Cloudesly, 
An archer good ynough. 

They were outlawed for venyson, 

These yemen everychone ; 
They swore them brethren upon a day, 

To Englyshe wood for to gone. 



20 ADAM BELL, CLYM OF THE CLOUGH, 

Now lith and lysten, gentylmen, 
That of myrthes loveth to here ; 

Two of them were single men, 
The third had a wedded fere. 1 

Wyllyam was the wedded man, 
Muche more then was hys care : 

He sayde to hys brethren upon a day, 
To Carleile he would fare, 

For to speke with fayre Alyce his wife, 
And with hys chyldren thre. 

By my trout h, sayde Adam Bel, 
Not by the counsell of me : 

For if ye go to Carlile, brother, 
And from thys wylde wode wende, 

If that the justice may you take, 
Your lyfe were at an ende. 

If that I come not to-morrowe, brother, 

By pryme to you agayne, 
Truste you then that I am taken, 

Or else that I am slayne. 

He toke hys leave of hys brethren two, 

And to Carlile he is gon ; 
There he knocked at his owne windowe 

Shortlye and anone. 



Companion. 






AND WILLIAM OF CLOUDESLY. 21 

Wher be you, fayre Alyce, he sayd, 

My wife and chyldren three? 
Lyghtly let in thyne owne husbande, 

AVyllyam of Cloudeslee. 

Alas ! then sayde fayre Alyce, 

And syghed wonderous sore, 
Thys place hath ben besette for you 

Thys halfe a yere and more. 

Now am I here, sayde Cloudeslee, 

I would that in I were. 
Now fetche us meate and drynke ynoughe, 

And let us make good chere. 

She fetched hym meate and drynke plentye, 

Lyke a true wedded wyfe ; 
And pleased hym with that she had, 

Whome she loved as her lyfe. 

There lay an old wyfe in that place, 

A lytle besyde the fyre, 
Whych Wyllyam had found of charytye 

More than seven yere. 

Up she rose, and walked full still 

Evill mote shee speede therfore ; 
For shee had sett no foote on ground 

In seven yere before. 



22 ADAM BELL, CLYM OF THE CLOUGH, 

She went unto the justice hall, 

As fast as she could hye : 
Thys night, shee sayd, is come to town 

Wyllyam of Cloud eslye. 

Thereof the justice was full fayne, 

And so was the shirife also : 
Thou shalt not trauaile hither, dame, for nought. 

Thy meed l thou shalt have ere thou go. 

They gave to her a ryght good goune, 

Of scarlate, and of graine :* 
She toke the gyft, and home she wente. 

And couched her doune agayne. 

They raysed the towne of mery Carleile 

In all the haste they can ; 
And came thronging to Wyllyames house. 

As fast as they might gone. 

There they besette that good yeman 

Round about on every syde: 
Wyllyam hearde great noyse of folkes, 

That thither-ward fast hyed. 

Alyce opened a backe win do we, 

And loked all aboute, 
She was ware of the justice and shirife bothe. 

Wyth a full o-reat route. 



Reward. 2 Red, scarlet. 



AND WILLIAM OF CLOUDESLY. 23 

Alas ! treason, cryed Alyce, 

Ever wo may thou be ! 
Goe into my chamber, my husband, she sayd, 

Swete Wyllyam of Cloudeslee. 

He toke his sweard and hys bucler, 

Hys bow and hys chyldren thre, 
And wente into hys strongest chamber, 

Where he thought surest to be. 

Fayre Alyce, like a lover true, 

Took a pollaxe in her hande : 
Said, He shall dye that cometh in 

Thys dore, wh)de I may stand. 

Cloudeslee bente a right good bowe, 

That was of a trusty tre, 
He smot the j ustise on the brest, 

That hys arowe burst in three. 

A curse on his havte, saide William, 

Thys day thy cote dyd on ! 
If it had ben no better then myne, 

It had gone nere thy bone. 

Yelde the Cloud esle, sayd the j ustise, 
And thy bowe and thy arrowes the fro. 

A curse on hys hart, sayd fair Alyce, 
That my husband councelleth so. 



24 ADAM BELL, CLYM OF THE CLOUGH, 

Set fyre on the house, saide the sherife, 

Syth it wyll no better be, 
And brenne we therin William, he saide, 

Hys wyfe and chyldren thre. 

They fyred the house in many a place, 

The fyre flew up on hye : 
Alas ! then cryed fay re Alice, 

I se we here shall dye. 

William ppenyd a backe wyndow, 

That v»as in hys chamber hie, 
And there with sheetes he did let downe 

His wyfe and children three. 

Have you here my treasure, sayde William, 
My wyfe and my chyldren thre : 

For Christes love do them no harme, 
But wreke you all on me. 

Wyllyam shot so wonderous well, 
Tyll hys arrowes were all agoe, 

And the fyre so fast upon hym fell, 
That hys bowstryng brent in two. 

The sparkles brent and fell hym on 

Good Wyllyam of Cloudesle : 
Than was he a wofull man, and sayde, 

Thys is a cowardes death to me. 



AND WILLIAM OF CLOUDESLY. 25 

Leever had I, sayde Wyllyam, 

With my sworde in the route to renne, 1 

Then here among myne enemyes wode 2 
Thus cruelly to bren. 

He toke hys sweard and hys buckler, 

And among them all he ran, 
Where the people were most in prece 

He smote downe many a man. 

There myght no man abyde hys stroakes, 

So fersly on them he ran : 
Then they threw wyndowes and dores on him 

And so toke that good yeman. 

There they hym bounde both hand and fote, 
And in a deepe dungeon him cast : 

Now, Cloudesle, sayd the justice, 
Thou shalt be hanged in hast. 

A payre of new gallowes, sayd the sherife, 

Now shal I for thee make ; 
And the gates of Carleil shal be shutte : 

No man shal come in therat. 

Then shall not helpe Clym of the Cloughe, 

Nor yet shall Adam Bell, 
Though they came with a thousand mo, 

And shotte theyr arrowes well. 



1 Run. 2 Mad, fierce. 



26 ADAM BELL, CLYM OF THE CLOUGH, 

Early in the mornynge the justice uprose, 

To the gates first can he gone, 
And commaunded to be shut full close 

Lightile everychone. 

Then went he to the markett place, 

As fast as he coulde hye; 
There a payre of new gallowes he set up 

Besyde the pyllorye. 

A lytle boy among them asked, 

What meaned that gallow-tre? 
They sayde to hange a good yeman, 

Called Wyllyam of Cloudesle. 

That lytle boye was the towne swyne-heard, 
And kept fay re Alyces svvyne ; 

Oft he had seene William in the wodde, 
And geuen hym there to dyne. 

He went out att a ere vis of the wall, 
And lightly to the woode dyd gone; 

There met he with these wightye yemen 
Shortly and anone. 

Alas ! then sayde the lytle boye, 

Ye tary here all too longe ; 
Cloudeslee is taken, and dampned to death, 

And readve for to honge. 



AND WILLIAM OF CLOUDESLY. 27 

Alas ! then sayd good Adam Bell, 

That ever we saw thys daye ! 
He had better have tarryed with us, 

So ofte as we dyd him praye. 

He myght have dwelt in grene foreste, 

Under the shadowes greene 
And have kepte both hym and us att reste, 

Out of all trouble and teene. 1 

Adam bent a ryght good bow, 

A great hart sone hee had slayne : 
Take that, chylde, he sayde, to thy dynner, 

And bryng me myne arrowe agayne. 

Now go we hence, sayed these wightye yeomen, 

Tarry we no longer here ; 
We shall hym borowe 2 by God his grace, 

Though we buy itt full dere. 

To Caerleil wente these bold yemen, 

All in a mornyng of maye. 
Here is a fyt of Cloudeslye, 

And another is for to saye. 



Sorrow. 2 Bail, redeem by a pledge. 



28 ADAM BELL, CLYM OF THE CLOUGH, 



FYTTE THE SECOND. 

And when they came to mery Carleile, 

In a fayre mornyng tyde, 
They founde the gates shut them untyll 

About on every syde. 

Alas ! then sayd good Adam Bell, 
That ever we were made men ! 

These gates be shut so wonderous fast, 
We may not come therein. 

Then bespake him Clym of the Clough, 
Wyth a wyle we wyl us in bryng ; 

Let us saye we be messengers, 

Streyght come nowe from our king. 

Adam said, I have a letter written, 

Now let us wysely werke, 
We wyl saye we have the kynges seale ; 

I holde the porter no clerke. 

Then Adam Bell bete on the gates 
With strokes great and stronge : 

The porter marveiled, who was therat, 
And to the gates he thronge. 1 

1 Hastened. 



AND WILLIAM OF CLOUDESLY. 29 

Who is there now, sayde the porter, 

That maketh all thys knockinge ? 
We be tow messengers, quoth Clim of the Clough, 

Be come ryght from our kyng. 

We have a letter, sayd Adam Bel, 

To the justice we must itt bryng ; 
Let us in our message to do, 

That we were agayne to the kyng. 

Here commeth none in, sayd the porter, 

By hym that dyed on a tre, 
Tyll a false thefe be hanged 

Called Wyllyam of Cloudesle. 

Then spake the good yeman Clym of the Clough, 

And swore by Mary fre, 
And if that we stande long wythout, 

Lyke a thefe hanged shalt thou be. 

Lo ! here we have the kynges seale : 

What, Lurden, 1 art thou wode? 
The porter went 2 it had ben so, 

And lyghtly dyd off hys hode. 

Welcome is my lordes "seale, he saide; 

For that ye shall come in. 
He opened the gate full shortlye : 

An euyl openyng for him. 



Sluggard. 2 Supposed, 



30 ADAM BELL, CLYM OF THE CLOUGH, 

Now are we in, sayde Adam Bell, 

Wherof we are full faine ; 
But Christ he knowes, that harowed hell, 

How we shall com out agayne, 

Had we the keys, said Clim of the Clough, 
Ryght wel then shoulde we spede, 

Then might we come out wel ynough 
When we se tyme and nede. 

They called the porter to counsell, 

And wrang his necke in two, 
And caste hym in a depe dungeon, 

And toke hys keys hym fro. 

Now am I porter, sayd Adam Bel, 

Se brother the keys are here, 
The worst porter to merry Carleile 

That ye had thys hundred yere. 

And now wyll we our bowes bend, 

Into the towne wyll we go, 
For to delyuer our dere brother, 

That lyeth in care and wo. 

Then they bent theyr go5d ewe bowes, 
And loked theyr stringes were round, 

The markett place in mery Carleile 
They beset that stound. 1 



Time. 



AND WILLIAM OF CLOUDESLY. 31 

And, as they loked them besyde, 

A paire of new galowes they see, 
And the justice with a quest of squyers, 

That judged William hanged to be. 

And Cloudesle lay ready there in a cart 

Fast bound both fote and hand ; 
And a stronge rope about hys necke, 

All readye for to hange. 

The justice called to him a ladde, 
Cloudeslees clothes hee shold have, 

To take the measure of that yeman, 
Therafter to make hys grave. 

I have sene as great mervaile, said Cloudesle, 

As betweyne thys and pryme, 
He that maketh a grave for mee, 

Hymselfe may lye therin. 

Thou speakest proudlye, said the justice 

I will thee hange with my hande. 
Full wel herd this his brethren two 

There styll as they dyd stande. 

Then Cloudesle cast his eyen asyde, 

And saw hys brethren twaine 
At a corner of the market place, 

Redy the justice for to slaine. 



32 ADAM BELL, CLYM OF THE CLOUGH, 

I se comfort, sayd Cloudesle, 

Yet hope I well to fare, 
If I might have my bandes at wyll 

Ryght lytle wolde I care. 

Then spake good Adam Bell 

To Clym of the Clough so free, 
Brother, se you marke the justyce wel ; 

Lo ! yonder you may him se : 

And at the shy rife shote I wyll 

Strongly wyth an arrowe kene ; 
A better shote in mery Carleile 

Thys seven yere was not seene. 

They loosed their arrowes both at once, 

Of no man had they dread ; 
The one hyt the justice, the other the sheryfe, 

That both theyr sides gan blede. 

All men voyded, that them stode nye, 
When the justice fell to the grounde, 

And the sherife nye hym by ; 
Eyther had his deathes wounde. 

All the citezens fast gan five, 

They durst no longer abyde: 
There lyghtly they losed Cloudeslee, 

Where he with ropes lay tyde. 



AND WILLIAM OF CLOUDESLY. 33 

Wyllyam start to an officer of the towne, 
Hys axe from hys hand he wronge, 

On eche syde he smote them downe, 
Hee thought he taryed too long. 

Wyllyam sayde to hys brethren two, 

Thys daye let us lyve and die, 
If ever you have nede, as I have now, 

The same shall you finde by me. 

They shot so well in that tyde, 
Theyr stringes were of silke ful sure, 

That they kept the stretes on every side; 
That batayle did long endure. 

They fought together as brethren true, 

Lyke hardy men and bolde, 
Many a man to the ground they threw, 

And many a herte made colde. 

But when their arrowes were all gon, 

Men preced to them full fast, 
They drew theyr swordes then anone, 

And theyr bowes from them cast. 

They went lyghtlye on theyr way, 
Wyth swordes and buclers round ; 

By that it was mydd of the day, 
They made many a wound. 



34 ADAM BELL, CLYM OF THE CLOUGH, 

There was an oul-horne 1 in Carleil blowen, 
And the belles backward dyd ryng, 

Many a woman sayde, Alas ! 

And many theyr handes dyd wryng. 

The mayre of Carleile forth com was, 

Wyth hym a full great route : 
These yemen dred hym full sore, 

Of theyr lyves they stode in great doute. 

The mayre came armed a full great pace, 

With a pollaxe in hys hande ; 
Many a strong man wyth him was, 

There in that stow re 2 to stande. 

The mayre smot at Cloudeslee with his bil, 

Hys bucler he brast in two, 
Full many a yeman with great evyll, 

Alas ! Treason they cryed for wo. 
Kepe well the gates fast, they bad, 

That these traytours therout not go. 

But al for nought was that they wrought, 
For so fast they downe were layde, 

Tyll they all thre, that so manfully fought, 
Were gotten without abraide. 3 



1 The summoning to arms by the sound of a horn. 

2 Fight, disturbance. 3 Abroad. 



AND WILLIAM OF CLOUDESLY. 35 

Have here your keys, sayd Adam Bel, 

Myne office I here forsake, 
And yf you do by my counsell 

A new porter do ye make. 

He threw theyr keys at theyr heads, 

And bad them evil to thryve, 
And all that letteth any good yeman 

To come and comfort his wyfe. 

Thus be these good yemen gon to the wod, 

As lyghtly as lefe on lynde ; 
They lough and be mery in theyr mode, 

Theyr enemyes were ferr behynd. 

When they came to Englyshe wode, 

Under the trusty tre, 
There they found bowes full good, 

And arrowes full great plentye. 

So God me help, sayd Adam Bell, 

And Clym of the Clough so fre, 
I would we were in mery Carleile, 

Before that fay re meynye. 1 

They set them downe, and make good chere, 

And eate and dranke full well. 
A second fyt of the wightye yeomen: 

Another I wyll you tell. 



1 Train, company. 



36 ADAM BELL, CLYM OF THE CLOUGH, 



FYTTE THE THIRD. 

As they sat in Englyshe wood, 

Under theyr trusty tre, 
They thought they herd a woman wepe, 

But her they mought not se. 

Sore then syghed the fay re Alyce : 

That ever I sawe thys day ! 
For nowe is my dere husband slayne : 

Alas ! and wel-a-way ! 

Myght I have spoken wyth hys dere brethren, 

Or with eyther of them twayne, 
To show them what him befell, 

My hart were out of payne. 

Cloudesle walked a lytle beside, 

He looked under the grene wood lynde, 

He was ware of his wife, and chyldren three, 
Full wo in harte and mynde. 

Welcome, wyfe, then sayde Wyllyam, 

Under this trusty tre : 
I had wende yesterday, by swete saynt John, 

Thou sholdest me never have se. 



AND WILLIAM OF CLOUDESLY. 37 

Now well is me that ye be here, 

My harte is out of wo. 
Dame, he sayde, be mery and glad, 

And thanke my brethren two. 

Herof to speake, said Adam Bell, 

T-wis it is no bote : ' 
The meate, that we must supp withall, 

It runneth yet fast on fote. 

Then went they downe into a launde, 

These noble arch ares all thre ; 
Eche of them slew a hart of greece, 2 

The best that they cold se. 

Have here the best, Alyce my wyfe, 

Sayde Wyllyam of Cloudeslye 
By cause ye so bouldly stode by me 

When I was slayne full nye. 

Then went they to suppere 

Wyth suche meate as they had ; 
And thanked God of ther fortune : 

They were both mery and glad. 

And when they had supped well, 

Certayne withouten lease, 
Cloudesle sayd, We wyll to our kyng, 

To get us a charter of peace. 

1 Advantage, boot. 2 A fat hart. " Graisse," Fr. 



38 ADAM BELL, CLYM OF THE CLOUGH, 

Alyce shal be at our sojournyng 

In a nunnery here besyde ; 
My tow sonnes shall wyth her go, 

And there they shall abyde. 

Myne eldest son shall go wyth me ; 

For hym have you no care : 
And he shall bring you worde agayn, 

How that we do fare. 

Thus be these yemen to London gone, 

As fast as they myght hye, 
Tyll they came to the kynges pallace, 

Where they woulde nedes be. 

And whan they came to the kynges courte, 

Unto the pallace gate, 
Of no man wold they aske no leave, 

But boldly went in therat. 

They preced prestly into the hall, 

Of no man had they dreade : 
The porter came after, and dyd them calle, 

And with them began to chyde. 

The usher sayde, Yemen, what wold ye have ? 

I pray you tell to me : 
You myght thus make offycers shent: 1 

Good syrs, of whence be ye? 



Blamed. 



AND WILLIAM OF CLOUDESLY. 39 

Syr, we be outlawes of the forest 

Certayne withouten lease ; 
And hether we be come to the kyng, 

To get us a charter of peace. 

And whan they came before the kyng 1 , 

As it was the lavve of the lande, 
They kneled downe without lettyng, 

And eche held up his hand. 

The sayed, Lord, we beseche the here, 

That ye wyll graunt us grace ; 
For we have slayne your fat falow dere 

In many a sondry place. 

What be your nams, then said our king, 

A none that you tell me ? 
They sayd, Adam Bell, Clim of the Clough, 

And Wyllyam of Cloudesle. 

Be ye those theves, then sayd our kyng, 

That men have tolde of to me ? 
Here to God I make an avowe, 

Ye shal be hanged al thre. 

Ye shal be dead without mercy, 

As I am kynge of this lande. 
He commanded his officers everichone, 

Fast on them to lay hande. 



40 ADAM BELL, CLYM OF THE CLOUGH, 

There they toke these good yemen, 

And arested them al thre : 
So may I thryve, sayd Adam Bell, 

Thys game lyketh not me. 

But, good lorde, we beseche you now, 

That yee graunt us grace, 
Insomuch e as frely we be to you come, 

As frely we may fro you passe, 

With such weapons, as we have here, 

Tyll we be out of your place ; 
And yf we lyve this hundreth yere, 

We wyll aske you no grace. 

Ye speake proudly, sayd the kynge ; 

Ye shall be hanged all thre. 
That were great pitye, then sayd the quene, 

If any grace myght be. 

My lorde, whan I came fyrst into this lande 

To be your wedded wyfe, 
The fyrst boone that I wold aske, 

Ye would graunt it me belyfe : 1 

And I asked you never none tyll now ; 

Therefore, good lorde, graunt it me. 
Now aske it, madam, sayd the kynge, 

And graunted it shal be. 



immediately. 



AND WILLIAM OF CLOUDESLY. 41 

Then, good my lord, I you beseche, 

These yemen graunt ye me. 
Madame, ye myght have asked a boone, 

That shuld have been worth them all thre. 

Ye myght have asked towres, and townes, 

Parkes and forestes plente. 
None soe pleasant to my pay, shee sayd ; 

Nor none so lefe to me. 

Madame, sith it is your desyre, 

Your askyng graunted shal be; 
But I had lever have given you 

Good market townes thre. 

The quene was a glad woman, 

And sayde, Lord, gramarcy ; 
I dare undertake for them, 

That true men shal they be. 

But, good my lord, speke som mery word, 

That comfort they may se. 
I graunt you grace, then sayd our kyng ; 

Washe, felos, and to meate go ye. 

They had not setten but a whyle 

Certayne without lesynge, 1 
There came messengers out of the north 

With letters to our kyng. 



1 Mistake. 
G 



42 ADAM BELL, CLYM OF THE CLOUGH, 

And whan they came before the kynge, 
They knelt downe on theyr kne ; 

And sayd, Lord, your officers grete you well, 
Of Carleile in the north cuntre. 

How fareth my justice, sayd the kyng, 

And my sherife also ? 
Syr, they be slayne without leasynge, 

And many an officer mo. 

Who hath them slayne ? sayd the kyng- ; 

Anone that thou tell me. 
"Adam Bell, and Clime of the Clough, 

And Wyllyam of Cloudesle." 

Alas for rewth ! then sayd our kynge : 

My hart is wonderous sore ; 
I had lever than a thousande pounde, 

I had knowne of thys before ; 

For I have graunted them grace, 

And that forthynkelh 1 me : 
But had I knowne all thys before, 

They had been hanged all thre. 

The kyng hee opened the letter anone, 

Himselfe he red it thro, 
And founde how these outlawes had slain 

Thre hundred men and mo : 



Repenteth, troubled! 



AND WILLIAM OF CLOLDESLY. 43 

Fyrst the justice, and the sheryfe, 
And the mayre of Carleile towne ; 

Of all the constables and catchipolles 
Alyve were scant left one : 

The baylyes, and the bedyls both, 

And the sergeauntes of the law, 
And forty fosters of the fe, 1 

These outlawes had yslaw : 

And broke his parks, and slayne his dere ; 

Of all they chose the best ; 
So perelous out-lawes, as they were, 

Walked not by easte nor west. 

When the kynge this letter had red, 

In hys harte he syghed sore : 
Take up the tables anone he bad, 

For I may eat no more. 

The kyng called his best archars 

To the buttes wyth hym to go : 
I wyll se these felowes shote, he sayd, 

In the north have wrought this wo. 

The kynges bowmen buske them blyve, 2 

And the quenes archers also ; 
So dyd these thre wyghtye yemen ; 

With them they thought to go. 



1 Foresters of the king's demesnes. 

2 Prepared themselves instantly. 



44 ADAM BELL, CLYM OF THE CLOUGH, 

There twyse, or thryse they shote about 

For to assay theyr hande ; 
There was no shote these yemen shot, 

That any prycke myght stand. 

Then spake Wyllyam of Cloudesle ; 

By him that for me dyed, 
I hold hym never no good archar, 

That shoteth at buttes so vvyde. 

1 At what a butte now wold ye shote V 

I pray thee tell to me. 
At suche a but, syr, he sayd, 

As men use in my countree. 

Wyllyam wente into a fyeld, 
And with him his two brethren : 

There they set up two hasell roddes 
Twenty score paces betwene. 

I hold him an archar, said Cloudesle 
That yonder wande cleveth in two. 

Here is none suche, sayd the kyng, 
Nor no man can so do. 

I shall assaye, syr, sayd Cloudesle, 

Or that I farther go. 
Cloudesly with a bearyng arowe ' 

Clave the wand in two. 



1 An arrow that carries well. 



AND WILLIAM OF CLOUDESLY. 4-3 

Thou art the best archer, then said the king, 

Forsothe that ever I se. 
And yet for your love, sayd Wyllyam, 

I wyll do more maystery. 

I have a sonne is seven yere olde, 

He is to me full deare ; 
I wyll hym tye to a stake ; 

All shall se, that be here ; 

And lay an apple upon hys head, 
And go syxe score paces hym fro, 

And I my selle with a brode arow 
Shall cleve the apple in two. 

Now haste the, then sayd the kyng, 

By hym that dyed on a tre, 
But yf thou do not, as thou hest sayde, 

Hanged shalt thou be. 

And thou touche his head or gowne, 

In syght that men may se, 
By all the sayntes that be in heaven, 

I shall hange you all thre. 

That I have promised, said William, 

That I wyll never forsake. 
And there even before the kynge 

In the earth he drove a stake : 



46 ADAM BELL, CLYM OF THE CLOCGH, 

And bound therto his eldest sonne, 
And bad hym stand styll thereat ; 

And turned the childes face him fro, 
Because he should not start. 

An apple upon his head he set, 

And then his bowe he bent : 
Syxe score paces they were meaten, 1 

And thether Cloudesle went. 

There he drew out a fayre brode arrowe, 

Hys bowe was great and longe, 
He set that arrowe in his bowe, 

That was both styffe and stronge. 

He prayed the people, that wer there, 

That they all still wold stand, 
For he that shoteth for such a wager 

Behoveth a stedfast hand. 

Muche people prayed for Cloudesle, 

That his lyfe saved myght be, 
And whan he made hym redy to shote, 

There was many weeping ee. 

1 Measured. 

a A similar story is told by Saxo Grammaticus of Palna- 
toki, the founder of the pirate city of Jomsburg, in Pome- 
rania ; his skill in archery was never equalled in the North ; 
and he was accustomed to boast that he could hit an apple, 
however small, on the top of a pole : this boast at length 
reached Harald Blaatand, who insisted that the archer's own 
child should supply the place of the pole ; the apple was 



AND WILLIAM OF CLOUDESLY. 47 

But Cloudesle clefte the apple in two, 

His sonne he did not nee. 
Over Gods forbode, sayde the kinge 

That thou shold shote at me. 2 

I geve thee eightene pence a day, 

And ray bowe shalt thou bere, 
And over all the north countre 

I make the chyfe rydere. 

And I thyrtene pence a day, said the quene, 

By God, and by my fay ; 3 
Come feche thy payment when thou wylt, 

No man shall say the nay. 

Wyllyam, I make the a gentleman 

Of clothyng, and of fe : 
And thy two brethren, yemen of my chambre, 

For they are so semely to se. 

Your sonne, for he is tendre of age, 

Of my wyne-seller he shall be ; 
And when he commeth to mans estate, 

Better avaunced shall he be. 

cloven, whilst the child remained uninjured ; but the archer 
had three arrows, and being asked what he had intended to 
do with the remaining two, he replied, that had he been the 
cause of his child's death, the guilty contriver of the expe- 
riment should not have escaped.— Saxo Gramm. lib. x. Bun- 
ham, vol. i. p. 113. Saxo wrote a full century before the 
time of William Tell. 
3 Faith. 



48 ADAM BELL, ETC. 

And Wyllyam, bring me your wife, said the quene, 

Me longeth her sore to se : 
She shall be my chefe gentlewoman, 

To governe my nurserye. 

The yemen thanked them all curteously. 

To some byshop wyl we wend, 
Of all the synnes, that we have done 

To be assoyld at his hand. 

So forth be gone these good yemen, 

As fast as they might hye ; 
And after came and dwelled with the kynge, 

And dyed good men all thre. 

Thus endeth the lives of these good yemen ; 

God send them eternall blysse ; 
And all, that with hand-bo we shoteth; 

That of heven may never mysse. 




KING ESTMERE. 1 

HEARKEN to me, gentlemen, 
Come and you shall heare ; 
He tell you of two of the boldest brethren 
That ever borne y-\vere. 

The tone of them was Adler younge, 
The tother was kyng Estmere ; 

They were as bolde men in their deeds, 
As any were farr and neare. 

As they were drinking ale and wine 
Within kyng Estmeres halle : 

When will ye marry a wyfe, brother, 
A wyfe to glad us all ? 



1 Percy's Reliques, i. 65. 



50 KING ESTMERE. 

Then bespake him kyng Estmere, 

And answered him hastilee : 
I know not that ladye in any land 

That's able 1 to marrye with mee. 

Kyng Adland hath a daughter, brother, 
Men call her bright and sheene ; 

If I were kyng here in your stead, 
That ladye shold be my queene. 

Saies, Reade me, reade me, deare brother, 

Throughout merry England, 
Where we might find a messenger 

Betwixt us two to sende. 

Saies, You shal ryde yourselfe, brother, 

He beare you companye ; 
Many throughe fals messengers are deceived, 

And I feare lest soe shold wee. 

Thus they renisht them to ryde 

Of twoe good renisht steeds, 2 
And when they came to king Adlands halle, 

Of redd gold shone their weeds. 



1 Fit. 

2 Perhaps a derivation from reniteo, to shine. — Percy. 
is more probably a Teutonic word. 



KING ESTMERE. 51 

And when they came to kyng Adlands hall 

Before the goodlye gate, 
There they found good kyng Adland 

Hearing hirnselfe theratt. 

Now Christ thee save, good kyng Adland ; 

Now Christ you save and see, 
Sayd, You be welcome, king Estmere, 

Right hartilye to mee. 

You have a daughter, said Adler younge, 

Men call her bright and sheene, 
My brother wold marrye her to his wiffe, 

Of Englande to be queene. 

Yesterday was att my deere daughter 

Syr Bremor the kyng of Spayne ; 
And then she nicked him of naye, 1 

And I doubt sheele do you the same. 

The kyng of Spayne is a foule paynim, 

And 'leeveth on Mahound ; 
And pitye it were that fayre ladye 

Shold marrye a heathen hound. 

But grant to me, sayes kyng Estmere, 

For my love I you praye ; 
That I may see your daughter deere 

Before I goe hence awaye. 

1 Refused him. 



52 KING ESTMERE. 

Although itt is seven yeers and more 
Since my daughter was in halle, 

She shall come once downe for your sake 
To glad my guestes alle. 

Downe then came that mayden fayre, 

With ladyes laced in pall, 
And halfe a hundred of bold knicrhtes 

To bring her from bow re to hall; 
And as many gentle squiers, 

To tend upon them all. 

The talents of golde were on her head sette, 
Hanged low downe to her knee ; 

And everye ring on her small finger 
Shone of the chrystall free. 

Saies, God you save, my deere madam ; 

Saies, God you save and see ; 
Said, You be welcome, kyng Estmere, 

Right welcome unto mee. 

And if you love me, as you saye, 

Soe well and harlilee, 
And that ever you are comen about 

Soone sped now itt shall bee. 

Then bespake her father deare : 

My daughter, I saye naye ; 
Remember well the kyng of Spayne, 

What he sayd yesterdaye. 



KING ESTMERE. 53 

He wold pull dovvne my halles and castles, 

And reave me of my lyfe. 
I cannot blame him if he doe, 

If I reave him of his wyfe. 

Your castles and your tovvres, father, 

Are strongly e built aboute ; 
And therefore of the king of Spaine 

Wee neede not stande in doubt. 

Plight me your troth, nowe, kyng Estmere, 

By heaven and your righte hand, 
That you will marrye me to your wyfe, 

And make me queene of your land. 

Then kyng Estmere he plight his troth 

By heaven and his righte hand, 
That he wolde marrye her to his wyfe, 

And make her queene of his land. 

And he tooke leave of that lad ye fay re, 

To goe to his owne countree, 
To fetch him dukes and lordes and knightes, 

That marryed they might bee. 

They had not ridden scant a myle, 

A myle forthe of the towne, 
But in did come the kyng of Spayne, 

With kempes 1 many one. 



Warriors, men at arms. 



54 KING ESTMERE. 

But in did come the kyng of Spayne, 

With manye a bold barone, 
Tone day to marrye kyng Adlands daughter, 

Tother daye to carrye her home. 

Shee sent one after kyng Estmere 

In all the spede might bee, 
That he must either turne againe and fighte, 

Or goe home and loose his ladye. 

One whyle then the page he went, 

Another while he ranne ; 
Till he had oretaken king Estmere, 

I wis, he never blanne. 1 

Tydings, tydings, kyng Estmere! 

What tydinges nowe, my boye? 
O tydinges I can tell to you, 

That will you sore annoye. 

You had not ridden scant a mile, 

A mile out of the towne, 
But in did come the kyng of Spayne 

With kempes many a one : 

But in did come the kyng of Spayne 

With manye a bold barone, 
Tone daye to marrye king Adlands daughter, 

Tother daye to carry her home. 



Lin-ered, stopped. 



KING ESTMERE. 0-5 

My ladye fayre she greetes you well, 

And ever-more well by me: 
You must either turne againe and fighte, 

Or goe home and loose your ladye. 

Saies, Reade me, reade me, deere brother, 

My reade shall ryse at thee, 1 
Whether it is better to turne and fighte, 

Or goe home and loose my ladye. 

Now hearken to me, sayes Adler yonge, 

And your reade must rise at me, 
I quicklye will devise a waye 

To sette thy ladye free. 

My mother was a westerne woman, 

And learned in gramarye, 
And when I learned at the schole, 

Something shee taught itt mee. 

There growes an hearbe within this field, 

And iff it were but knowne, 
His colour which is whyte and redd, 

It will make blacke and browne : 

His color, which is browne and blacke, 

Itt will make redd and whyte ; 
That sworde is not in all Englande, 

Upon his coate will byte. 



1 My counsel shall come from thee. 



56 KING ESTMERE. 

And you shal be a harper, brother, 

Out of the north countrye ; 
And He be your boy, soe faine of fighte, 

And beare your harpe by your knee. 

And you shal be the best harper, 
That ever tooke harpe in hand ; 

And I wil be the best singer, 
That ever sung in this lande. 

Itt shall be written in our forheads 

All and in grammarye, 
That we to we are the boldest men, 

That are in all Christentye. 

And thus they renisht them to ryde, 

On tow good renish steedes ; 
And when they came to king Adlands hall 

Of redd gold shone their weedes. 

And whan they came to kyng Adlands hall, 

Untill the fayre hall gate, 
There they found a proud porter 

Rearing himselfe thereatt. 

Sayes, Christ thee save, thou proud porter ; 

Sayes, Christ thee save and see. 
Nowe you be welcome, sayd the porter 

Of what land soever ye bee. 



KING ESTMERE. 57 

Wee beene harpers, sayd Adler younge, 
Come out of the northe countrye ; 

Wee beene come hither untill this place, 
This proud weddinge for to see. 

Sayd, And your color were white and redd, 

As it is blacke and browne, 
I wold saye king Estmere and his brother 

Were comen untill this towne. 

Then they pulled out a ryng of gold, 

Layd itt on the porters arme : 
And ever we will thee, proud porter, 

Thow wilt saye us no harme. 

Sore he looked on kyng Estmere, 

And sore he handled the ryng, 
Then opened to them the fayre hall yates 

He lett for no kind of thyng. 

Kyng Estmere he stabled his steede, 

Soe fayre att the hall bord ; 
The froth, that came from his brydle bitf.e, 

Light in kyng Bremors beard. 

Saies, Stable thy steed, thou proud harper, 

Saies, Stable him in the stalle ; 
It doth not beseeme a proud harper 

To stable him in a kyngs halle. 



58 KING ESTMERE. 

My ladde he is so lither, 1 he said, 
He will doe nought that's meete ; 

And is there any man in this hall 
Were able him to beate ? 



Thou speakst proud words, sayes the king of 
Thou harper, here to mee : [Spaine, 

There is a man within this halle 
Will beate thy ladd and thee. 

O let that man come downe, he said, 

A sight of him wold I see ; 
And when he hath beaten well my ladd, 

Then he shall beate of mee. 

Downe then came the kemperye 2 man, 

And looked him in the eare ; 
For all the gold, that was under heaven, 

He durst not neigh him neare. 

And how nowe, kempe, said the kyng of Spaine, 

And how what aileth thee ? 
He saies, It is writt in his forhead 

All and in gramarye, 
That for all the gold that is under heaven 

I dare not neigh him nye. 



1 Worthless, idle. 3 Fighting- man. 



KING ESTMERE. 59 

Then kyng Estmere pulld forth his harpe, 

And plaid a pretty thinge : 
The ladye upstart from the borde, 

And wold have gone from the king. 

Stay thy harpe, thou proud harper, 

For Gods love I pray thee, 
For and thou playes as thou beginns, 

Thou'lt till my bryde from mee. 1 

He stroake upon his harpe againe, 

And playd a pretty thinge; 
The ladye lough a loud laughter, 

As shee sate by the king. 

Saies, Sell me thy harpe, thou proud harper, 

And thy stringes all, 
For as many gold nobles thou shalt have 

As heere bee rinses in the hall. 



1 The mysterious character of music was strongly felt 
during- the Middle Ages, and the bards long retained the high 
station which was assigned to them by the early Britons ; 
Bishop Grostete is represented as having his harper lodged 
in a chamber next his own, employing his skill by night and 
day, and answering a person who enquired " Why he held the 
harp so dear!" that 

" The virtu of the harpe, thurgh skyle and ryght, 

Wyll destrye the fendys myghte ; 
And to the cros, by gode skylle 
Ys the harpe lykened weyl." 

Trans, of Bp. Grosttle's Manuel des Feches 
by Robl.de Brunne. 



60 KING ESTMERE. 

What wold ye doe with my harpe, he sayd, 

If I did sellittyee? 
" To playe my wifFe and me a fitt, 

When maryed we shal bee." 

Now sell me, quoth hee, thy bryde soe gay, 

As shee sitts by thy knee, 
And as many gold nobles I will giv 

As leaves been on a tree. 

And what wold ye doe with my bryde soe gay. 

Iff I did sell her thee? 
More seemelye it is for that ladye fayre 

To wed with mee than thee. 

Then loud again King Estmere played 

And Adler loud did syng, 
" O ladye, this is thy owne true love; 

" Noe harper, but a kyng. 

" O ladye, this is thy owne true love, 

" As playnlye thou may est see ; 
" And He rid thee of that foule payniin, 

" Who partes thy love and thee." 

The ladye looked, the ladye blushte, 

And blushte and lookt agayne, 
While Adler he hath drawne his brand e, 

And hath the Sowdan slayne. 



KING ESTMERE. 61 

Up then rose the kemperye men, 

And loud they gan to crye : 
Ah ! tray tors, yee have slayne our kyng, 

And therefore yee shall dye. 

Kyng Estmere threwe the harpe asyde, 

And swith he drew his brand ; 
And Estmere he, and Adler yonge 

Right stiffe in stour did stand. 1 

And aye their swordes soe sore can byte, 

Throughe help of Gramarye, 
That soone they have slayne the kempery men, 

Or forst them forth to flee. 

Kyng Estmere tooke that fayre ladye, 

And marryed her to his wifFe, 
And brought her home to merry England 

With her to leade his life. 



1 Fierce in the fight.. 




SIR CAULINE. 



This ballad has been considerably added to by Percy, who 
published it from his celebrated folio IMS. 



FYTTE THE FIRST. 

IN Ireland ferr over the sea 
There dwelleth a bonnye kinge 
And with him a yong and comlye knighte 
Men call him syr Cauline. 

The kinge had a ladye to his daughter 
In fashyon she hath no peere ; 

And princely wightes that ladye wooed 
To be theyr wedded feere. 

Syr Cauline loveth her best of all 

But nothing durst he saye ; 
Ne descreeve 1 his counsayl to no man 

But deerlye he lovde this may. 



Disc 



SIR CAULINE. 63 

Till on a daye it so befell, 

Great dill to him was dight; 1 
The maydens love removde his mynd, 

To care-bed went the knighte. 

One while he spred his armes him fro 

One while he spred them nye : 
And aye ! but I winne that ladyes love, 

For dole now I must dye. 

And whan our parish-masse was done, 

Our kinge was bowne 2 to dyne : 
He sayes, Where is syr Cauline, 

That is wont to serve the wyne? 

Then answerde him a courteous knighte, 

And fast his handes gan wringe : 
Sir Cauline is sicke, and like to dye 

Without a good leechinge. 3 

Fetche me downe my daughter deere, 

She is a leeche fulle fine : 
Goe take him doughe, and the baken bread, 
And serve him with the wyne soe red ; 

Lothe I were him to tine.* 



1 Great grief was upon him. 2 Ready, prepared. 

3 Cure by medicine. 4 Lose. 



64 SIR CAULINE. 

Fair Christabelle to his chaumber goes, 

Her maydens followyng nye : 
O well, she sayth, how doth my lord ? 

sicke, thou fayr ladye. 

Nowe ryse up wightlye, man, for shame, 

Never lye soe cowardlee ; 
For it is told in my fathers halle. 

You dye for love of mee. 

Fay re ladye, it is for your love 

That all this dill I drye: 
For if you wold comfort me with a kisse, 
Then were I brought from bale to blisse, 

No lenger wold I lye. 

Sir knighte, my father is a kinge, 

1 am his onlye heire ; 

Alas ! and well you knowe, syr knighte, 
I never can be youre fere. 

O ladye, thou art a kinges daughter, 

And I am not thy peere, 
But let me doe some deedes of armes 

To be your bacheleere. 

Some deedes of armes if thou wilt doe 

My bacheleere to bee, — 
(But ever and aye my heart wold rue, 

GirTharm shold happe to thee,) 



SIR CAULINE. 65 

Upon Eldridge hill there groweth a thorne, 

Upon the mores brodlnge ; * 
And dare ye, syr knighte, wake there all nighte 

Untill the fayre mornmge ? 



1 Wide downs or moors. — Percy. Spreading on the downs. 
— Motherwell. 

A certain knight, called u Le Sire de la Noire Espine," 
occurs in the romance of Ywaine and Gawaine; and the 
mysterious tree that shadowed the fountain of Barenton was, 
according to the same romance, a thorn : — 

" So thick it was with leues grene 
That might no rayn com ther hitwene ; 
And that grene lastes ay, 
For no winter dere it 'may." 

Sir Beaumains, in his way to the Castle of the Lady Lyones, 
who is apparently identical with the Lady of the Fountain, of 
the Welsh legend, and the 

" Ryche Lady Alundyne 

The Duke's doghter of Landuit" 

of the English version, encounters four knights, arrayed 
severally in black, green, red, and blue; the black knight 
is thus described : " Ande then they came to a blacke land, 
and ther was a blacke hawthorne, and thereon hung a blacke 
baner, and on the other syde ther hung- a blacke shield ; and 
by it stood a blacke spear and a long, and a great blacke 
horse, couered with silke, and a blacke stone fast by it." 
Morte d' Arthur, part i. ch. 125. 

This " knight of the black lands" is the same as the mys- 
terious opponent of the knights who poured water on the 
" Emerald stone" in the forest of Broceliand : and it is not 
impossible but that the " Eldridge knight" of the ballad is 
another version of the same legend. 



66 SIR CAULINE. 

For the Eldridge knighte, so mickle of mighte, 

Will examine you beforne : 
And never man bare life awaye, 

But he did him scath and scorne. 

That knighte he is a foul paynim, 

And large of limb and bone ; 
And but if heaven may be thy speede, 

Thy life it is but gone. 

Now on the Eldridge hilles He wake, 

For thy sake, fair ladie ; 
And He either bring you a ready token, 

Or lie never more you see. 

The lady is gone to her own chaumbere, 

Her may dens following bright : 
Syr Cauline lope from care-bed soone, 
And to the Eldridge hills is gone, 

For to wake there all night. 

Unto midnight, that the moone did rise, 

He walked up and downe ; 
Then a lightsome bugle heard he blowe 

Over the bents soe browne ; 
Quoth hee, If cryance 1 come till my heart, 

I am ffar from any good towne. 



Fear. 



SIRCAULINE. 67 

And soone he spyde on the mores so broad, 

A furyous wight and fell ; 
A lad ye bright his brydle led, 

Clad in a fay re kyrtell. 

And soe fast he called on syr Cauline, 

man, I rede thee flye, 

For but if cryance comes till my heart, 

1 weene but thou mun dye. 

He sayth no cryance comes till my heart, 

Nor, in faith, I wyll not flee ; 
For, cause thou minged ! not Christ before, 

The less me dreadeth thee. 

The Eldridge knighte, he pricked his steed ; 

Syr Cauline bold abode: 
Then either shooke his trustye speare, 
And the timber these two children bare 

So soone in sunder slode. 2 

Then tooke they out theyr two good swordes 

And lay den on full faste, 
Till helme and hawberke, mail and sheelde, 

They all were well-nye brast. 

The Eldridge knight was mickle of might, 

And stirTe in stower did stande, 
But syr Cauline with a backward stroke 

He smote off his right hand ; 



Split. 



68 SIR CAULINE. 

That soone he with paine and lacke of bloud 
Fell downe on that lay-land. 1 

Then up syr Cauline lift his brande 

All over his head so hye : 
And here I sweare by the holy roode, 

Nowe, caytiffe, thou shalt dye. 

Then up and came that ladye brighte, 

Fast wringing of her hande : 
For the maydens love, that most you love, 

Withold that deadlye brande : 

For the maydens love that most you love 

Now smyte no more I praye ; 
And aye whatever thou wilt, my lord 

He shall thy hests obaye. 

Now sweare to mee, thou Eldridge knighte, 

And here on this lay-land. 
That thou wilt believe on Christ his lave, 2 

And thereto plight thy hand. 

And that thou never on Eldridge come 

To sporte, gamon, 3 or playe : 
And that thou here give up thy armes 

Until thy dying daye. 



1 Land that is not ploughed, green sward. 

2 Law. 3 To make game, or sport. 



SIR CAUL1NE. 69 

The Eldridge knighte gave up his armes 

With many a sorrowfulle sighe ; 
And svvare to obey syr Caulines best, 

Till the tyme that he shold dye. 

And he then up and the Eldridge knighte 

Sett him in his saddle anone, 
And the Eldridge knighte and his ladye 

To theyr castle are they gone. 

Then he tooke up the bloudy hand, 

That was so large of bone, 
And on it be founde five ringes of gold 

Of knightes that had he slone. 

Then he tooke up the Eldridge sworde 

As hard as any flint : 
And he tooke off those ringes five, 

As bright as fyre and brent. 

Home then pricked syr Cauline 

As light as leafe on tree : 
I-wys he neither stint ne blanne, 1 

Till he his ladye see. 

Then dovvne he knelt upon his knee 

Before that lady gay : 
O ladye, I have bin on the Eldridge hills : 

These tokens I bring away. 



1 Lingered or stopped. 



70 SIR CAULINE. 

Now welcome, welcome, syr Cauline, 

Thrice welcome unto mee, 
For now I perceive thou art a true knighte, 

Of valour bolde and free. 

O ladye, I am thy own true knighte, 

Thy hests for to obaye : 
And mought I hope to winne thy love ! — 

Ne more his tongue colde say. 

The ladye blushed scarlette redde 

And fette a gentill sighe : 
Alas ! syr knighte, how may this bee, 

For my degree's soe highe ? 

But sith thou hast hight, thou comely youth, 

To be my batch ilere, 
He promise if thee I may not wedde 

I will have none other fere. 

Then shee held forthe her lilly-white hand 

Towards that knighte so free ; 
He gave to it one gentill kisse, 
His heart was brought from bale to blisse, 

The teares starte from his ee. 

But keep my counsayl, syr Cauline, 

Ne let no man it knowe ; 
For and ever my father sholde it ken, 

I wot he wolde us sloe. 



SIR CAULINE. 71 

From that daye forthe that ladye fayre 

Lovde syr Cauline the knighte : 
From that daye forthe he only joycle 

Whan shee was in his sight. 

Yea and oftentimes they mette 

Within a fayre arboure, 
Where they in love and sweet discourse 

Past manye a pleasaunt houre. 



72 SIR CAULINE. 



FYTTE THE SECOND. 
» 
Everye white will have its blacke, 

And everye sweete its sowre : 
This founde the ladye Christabelle 
In an untimely howre. 

For so it befelle, as syr Cauline 

Was with that ladye faire, 
The kinge her father walked for the 

To take the evenyng aire : 

And into the arboure as he went 

To rest his wearye feet, 
He found his daughter and syr Cauline 

There sette in converse sweet. 

The kinge hee sterted forthe, i-wys, 

And an angrye man was hee : 
No we, traytoure, thou shalt hange or drawe, 

And rewe shall thy ladie. 

Then forthe syr Cauline he was ledde 
And throwne in dungeon deeper 

And the ladye into a towre so hye, 
There left to wayle and weepe. 



SIR CAULINE. 73 

The queene she was syr Caulines friend, 

And to the kinge sayd shee : 
I praye you save syr Caulines life. 

And let him banisht bee. 

Now, dame, that traitor shall be sent 

Across the salt sea fome : 
But here I will make thee a band, 
If ever he come within this land, 

A foule deathe is his doome. 

All woe-begone was that gentil knight 

To parte from his lad ye ; 
And many a time he sighed sore 

And cast a wistfulle eye : 
Faire Christabelle, from thee to parte, 

Farre lever ] had I dye. 

Faire Christabelle, that ladye bright, 

Was had forthe of the towre ; 
But ever shee droopeth in her minde, 
As nipt by an ungentle winde 

Doth some faire lillye flowre. 

And ever shee doth lament and weepe 

To tint 2 her lover soe : 
Syr Cauline, thou little think'st on mee, 

But I will still be true. 



Rather. 2 Loose. 



74 SIR CAULINE. 

Manye a kinge, and manye a duke, 

And lorde of high degree, 
Did sue to that fayre laidye of love ; 

But never shee wolde them nee. 1 

When manye a daye was past and gone, 

Ne comforte shee colde finde, 
The kynge proclaimed a tourneament, 

To cheere his daughters mind : 

And there came lords, and there came knights, 

Fro manye a farre country e, 
To break a spere for theyre ladyes love 

Before that faire ladye. 

And many a ladye there was sette 

In purple and in palle : 
But faire Christabelle soe woe begone 

Was the fay rest of them all. 

Then manye a knighte was mickle of might 

Before his ladye gaye; 
But a stranger wight, whom no man knewe, 

He wan the prize eche daye. 

His acton it was all of blacke, 

His hewberke, and his sheelde, 
Ne noe man wist whence he did come 
Ne noe man knewe where he did gone, 

When they came from the feelde. 



Come nigh. 



SIR CAULINE. 7o 

And now three days were prestlye 1 past 

In feates of chivalrye, 
When lo upon the fourth morninge 

A sorrowfulle sight they see. 

A hugye giaunt stiffe and starke, 

All foule of limbe and lere; 2 
Two goggling eyen like fire farden 3 

A mouth from eare to eare. 

Before him came a dwarffe full lowe 

That waited on his knee 
And at his backe five heads he bare, 

All wan and pale of blee. 4 

Sir, quoth the dwarffe, and louted lowe, 

Behold that hend 5 Soldan! 
Behold these heads I beare with me ! 

They are kings which he hath slain. 

The Eldridge knight is his own cousine, 
Whom a knight of thine hath shent : 
And hee is come to avenge his wrong, 
And to thee, all thy knightes among, 
Defiance here hath sent. 



1 Presently. 2 Look. 



Flashed 1— Percy. * Complexion. 

Gentle. 



76 SIR CAULINE. 

But yette he will appease his wrath 

Thy daughters love to winne : 
And but thou yeelde him that fayre mayd, 

Thy halls and towers must brenne. 

Thy head, syr king, must goe with mee ; 

Or else thy daughter deere ; 
Or else within these lists soe broad 

Thou must finde him a peere. 

The king he turned him round aboute, 

And in his heart was woe : 
Is there never a knighte of my round table, 

This matter will undergoe ? 

Is there never a knighte amongst yee all 
Will fight for my daughter and mee? 

Whoever will fight yon grimme sold an, 
Right fair his meede shall bee. 

For hee shall have my broad lay-lands, 

And of my crowne be heyre ; 
And he shall winne fayre Christabelle 

To be his wedded fere. 

But every knighte of his round table 

Did stand both still and pale ; 
For whenever they lookt on the grim sold an, 

It made their hearts to quail. 



SIR CAULINE. 77 

All woe-begone was that fayre lad ye, 
When she savve no helpe was nye : 

She cast her thought on her owne true-love, 
And the teares gusht from her eye. 

Up then sterte the stranger knighte, 

Sayd, Ladye, be not affrayd : 
He fight for thee with this grimme soldan, 

Though he be unmacklye 1 made. 

And if thou wilt lend me the Eldridge sworde, 

That lyeth within thy bowre, 
I truste Christe for to slay this fiende 

Thoughe he be stiff in stowre. 

Goe fetch him downe the Eldridge sworde, 

The kinge he cryde, with speede : 
Xowe heaven assist thee, courteous knighte ; 

My daughter is thy meede. 

The gyaunt he stepped into the lists, 

And sayd, Awaye, awaye ; 
I sweare, as I am the hend soldan, 

Thou lettest me here all daye. 

Then forthe the stranger knighte he came 

In his blacke armoure dight : 
The ladye sighed a gentle sighe, 

" That this were my true knighte !" ' 



Misshapen. 



78 SIR CAULINE. 

And nowe the gyaunt and knighte be mett 

Within the lists so broad ; 
And now with swordes soe sharpe of Steele, 

They gan to lay on load. 

The sold an strucke the knighte a stroke, 

That made him reele asyde ; 
Then woe-begone was that fay re lad ye, 

And thrice she deeply sighed. 

The soldan strucke a second stroke 

And made the bloude to flowe : 
All pale and wan was that lad ye fay re, 

And thrice she wept for woe. 

The soldan strucke a third fell stroke, 
Which brought the knighte on his knee : 

Sad sorrow pierced that lad yes heart, 
And she shriekt loud shriekings three. 

The knighte he leapt upon his feete, 

All recklesse of the pain : 
Quoth hee, But heaven be now my speede, 

Or else I shall be slaine. 

He grasped his sworde with mayne and mighte, 

And spying a secrette part, 
He drave it into the soldan's syde, 

And pierced him to the heart. 



SIR CAULINE. 71 

Then all the people gave a shoute, 

Whan they sawe the soldan falle : 
The ladye wept, and thanked Christ, 

That had reskewed her from thrall. 
J 

And nowe the kinge with all his barons 

Rose uppe from offe his seate, 
And downe he stepped into the listes, 

That curteous knighte to greete. 

Bat he for payne and lacke of bloude 

Was fallen into a swounde, 
And there all walteringe in his gore, 

Lay lifelesse on the grounde: 

Come downe, come downe, my daughter deare, 

Thou art a leeche of skille ; 
Farre lever had I lose halfe my landes, 

Than this good knighte sholde spille. 

Downe then steppeth that fayre ladye, 

To helpe him if she maye ; 
But when she did his beavere raise 
It is my life, my lord, she sayes, 

And shriekte and swound awaye. 

Sir Cauline juste lifte up his eyes 

When he heard his ladye crye, 
O ladye, I am thine owne true love; 

For thee I wisht to dye. 



• 



80 SIR CAULINE. 

Then giving her one partinge looke, 

He closed his eyes in death, 
Ere Christabelle, that ladye milde, 

Begane to draw her breathe. 

But when she found her comelye knighte 

Indeed was dead and gone, 
She layde her pale cold cheeke to his, 

And thus she made her moane. 

O staye, my deare and onlye lord, 

For mee thy faithfulle feere ; 
Tis meet that I shold followe thee, 

Who hast bought my love soe deare. 

Then fayntinge in a deadlye swoune, 
And with a deepe-fette sighe, 

That burst her gentle hearte in twayne, 
Fay re Christabelle did dye. 




THE MARRIAGE OF SIR 
GAWAINE. 



This ballad was greatly added to by Bp. Percy; "King 
Henrie" (Border Minstrelsy, vol. iii.) turns on the same 
legend, as does the " Wife of B&th's Tale" in Chaucer. 
The original is to be found in the Saga of Hrolf Kraka, 
where Helge, King of Denmark, encounters a similarly 
" grimme woman." 



FYTTE I. 

KING Arthur wones in merry e Carlisle 
And seemlye ys to see ; 
And there with him queene Guenever, 
That bride soe bright of blee. 

And there with him queene Guenever, 
That bride so bright in bowre : 

And all his barons about him stoode, 
That were both stifle and stowre. 



82 THE MARRIAGE OF 

The king a royale Christmasse kept, 
With mirth and princelye cheare ; 

To him repaired many a knighte, 
That came both farre and neare. 

And when they were to dinner sette, 
And cups went freely round : 

Before them came a faire damselle, 
And knelt upon the ground. 

A boone, a boone, O kinge Arthure, 

I beg a boone of thee ; 
Avenge me of a carlish 1 knighte, 

Who hath shent my love and mee. 

At Tearne-Wadling 2 his castle stands, 

Near to that lake so fair, 
And proudlye rise the battlements, 

And streamers deck the air. 

Noe gentle knighte, nor ladye gay, 

May pass that castle-walle : 
But from that foule discurteous knighte, 

Mishappe will them befalle. 



1 Churlish, discourteous. 

2 Tearne-Wadling is the name of a small lake near Hes- 
keth in Cumberland, on the road from Penrith to Carlisle. 
There is a tradition that an old castle once stood near the 
lake, the remains of which were not long since visible. — 
Percy. 



SIR GAWA1NE. 83 

Hee's twyce the size of common men, 

Wi' thewes, and sinewes stronge, 
And on his backe he bears a clubbe, 

That is both thicke and longe. 

This grimme barone 'twas our harde happe, 

But y ester morne to see ; 
When to his bowre he bare my love, 

And sore misused mee. 

And when I told him, King Arthure 

As Jyttle shold him spare ; 
Goe tell, sayd hee, that boastful kinge, 

To meete mee if he dare. 

Upp then sterted king Arthure, 

And sware by hille and dale, 
He ne'er wold quitt that grimme barone, 

Till he had made him quail. 

Goe fetch my sword Excalibar : 

Goe saddle mee my steede ; 
Nowe, by my faye, that grimme barone 

Shall rue this ruthfulle deede. 

And when he came to Tearne-Wadlinge 

Benethe the castle walle : 
" Come forth ; come forth ; thou proude barone, 

Or yielde thyselfe my thralle." 



84 THE MARRIAGE OF 

On magicke grounde that castle stoode, 
And fenc'd with many a spelle : 

Noe valiant knighte could tread thereon, 
But straite his courage felle. 

Forth then rush'd that carlish knight, 
King Arthur felte the charme : 

His sturdy sinewes lost their strengthe, 
Downe sunke his feeble arme. 

Nowe yield thee, yield thee, Kinge Arthure, 

Now yield thee, unto mee : 
Or fighte withjnee, or lose thy lande, 

Noe better termes maye bee, 

Unlesse thou sweare upon the rood, 

And promise on thy faye, 
Here to returne to Tearne-Wadling, 

Upon the new-yeare's daye : 






And bringe me worde what thing it is 

All women moste desyre : 
This is thy ransome, Arthur, he sayes, 

He have noe other hyre. 

King Arthur then helde up his hande, 

And sware upon his faye, 
Then tooke his leave of the grimme barone, 

And faste hee rode awaye. 



SIR GAWAINE. 85 

And he rode east, and he rode west, 

And did of all inquyre, 
What thing it is all women crave, 

And what they most desyre. 

Some told him riches, pompe, or state ; 

Some rayment fine and brighte; 
Some told him mirthe ; some flatterye, 

And some a goodlye knighte. 

In letters all king Arthur wrote, 

And seal'd them with his ringe : 
But still his minde was helde in doubte, 

Eache told a different thinge. 

As ruth full e he rode over a more, 

He saw a ladye sette 
Betweene an oke, and a greene holleye 

All clad in red scarlette. 

Her nose was crookt and turnd outward e 

Her chin stoode all awrye ; 
And where as sholde have been her mouthe, 

Lo ! there was set her eye : 

Her haires, like 'serpents, clung aboute 

Her cheekes of deadlye hewe : 
A worse-formM ladye than she was, 

No man mote ever viewe. 



86 THE MARRIAGE OF 

To hail the king in seemelye sorte 

This ladye was fulle faine : 
But king Arthiire all sore amaz'd, 

No aunswere made againe. 

What wight art thou, the ladye sayd, 
That wilt not speake to mee ; 

Sir, I may chance to ease thy paine, 
Though I bee foule to see. 

If thou wilt ease my paine, he sayd, 
And helpe me in my neede ; 

Ask what thou wilt, thou grimme ladye, 
And it shall bee thy meede. 

O sweare mee this upon the roode, 

And promise on thy faye ; 
And here the secrette I will telle, 

That shall thy ransome paye. 

King Arthur promis'd on his faye, 

And sware upon the roode ; 
The secrette then the ladye told, 

As lightlye well shee cou'de. 

Now this shall be my paye, sir king, 

And this my guerdon bee, 
That some yong fair and courtlye knight, 

Thou bringe to marrye mee. 



SIR GAWAINE. 87 

Fast then pricked king Arthure 

Ore hille, and dale, and downe : 
And soone he founde the barone's bowre: 

And soone the grimme baroune. 

He bare his clubbe upon his backe, 
He stoode bothe stifle and stronge ; 

And, when he had the letters reade, 
Awaye the lettres flunge. 

Nowe yielde thee, Arthur, and thy lands, 

All forfeit unto mee ; 
For this is not thy paye, sir king. 

Nor may thy ransome bee. 

Yet hold thy hand, thou proud barone, 

I praye thee hold thy hand ; 
And give mee leave to speake once more 

In reskewe of my land. 

This morne, as I came over a more, 

I saw a ladye sette 
Betwene an oke, and a greene holleye, 

All clad in red scarlette. 

Shee sayes, all women will have their vville, 

This is their chief desyre ; 
Now yield, as thou art a barone true, 

That I have payd mine hyre. 



88 THE MARRIAGE OF 

An earlye vengeaunce light on her ! 

The carlish baron swore : 
Shee was my sister tolde thee this, 

Alas ! I be forlore. 

But here I will make mine avowe, 

To do her as ill a turne : 
For an ever I may that foule theefe gette 

In a fyre I will her burne. 



SIR GAWAINE. 89 



FYTTE II. 



Homewarde pricked king Arthure, 

And a wearye man was hee ; 
And soone he mette queene Guenever, 

That bride so bright of blee. 

What newes ! what newes ! thou noble king, 
Howe, Arthur, hast thou sped ? 

Where has thou hung the carlish knighte ? 
And where bestow'd his head ? 

The carlish knight is safe for mee 

And free fro mortal harme : 
On magicke grounde his castle stands, 

And fenc'd with many a charme. 

To bowe to him I was fulle faine, 

And yielde mee to his hand : 
And but for a lothly ladye, there 

I sholde have lost my land. 

And nowe this fills my hearte with woe, 

And sorrowe of my life ; 
I swore a yonge and courtlye knight, 

Sholde marry her to his wife. 



90 THE MARRIAGE OF 

Then bespake him sir Gawaine, 

That was ever a gentle knighte : 
That lothly ladye I will wed ; 

Therefore be merrye and lighte. 

Nowe naye, nowe naye, good sir Gawaine ; 

My sister's sonne yee bee ; 
This lothlye ladye's all too grimme, 

And all too foule for yee. 

Her nose is crookt and tum'd outwarde ; 

Her chin stands all awrye ; 
A worse form'd ladye than shee is 

Was never seen with eye. 

What though her chin stand all awrye, 

And shee be foule to see : 
I'll marry her, unkle, for thy sake, 

And I'll thy ransome bee. 

Nowe thankes, nowe thankes, good sir Gawaine; 

And a blessing thee betyde ! 
To-morrow wee'll have knights and squires, 

And wee'll goe fetch thy bride. 

And wee'll have hawkes and wee'll have houndes, 

To cover our intent ; 
And wee'll away to the greene forest, 

As wee a hunting went. 



SIR GAWA1NE. 91 

Sir Lancelot, sir Stephen bolde, 

They rode with them that daye ; 
And foremoste of the companye 

There rode the stewarde Kaye : 

Soe did sir Banier and sir Bore, 

And eke Sir Garratte keene ; 
Sir Tristram too, that gentle knight, 

To the forest freshe and greene. 

And when they came to the greene forrest, 

Beneathe a faire holley tree 
There sate that ladye in red scarlette 

That unseemelye was to see. 

Sir Kay beheld that lady's face, 

And looked upon her sweere ; 
Whoever kisses that ladye, he sayes, 

Of his kisse he stands in feare. 

Sir Kay beheld that ladye againe, 

And looked upon her snout ; 
Whoever kisses that ladye, he sayes, 

Of his kisse he stands in doubt. 

Peace, brother Kay, sayde sir Gawaine, 

And amend thee of thy life ; 
For there is a knight amongst us all, 

Must marry her to his wife. 



92 THE MARRIAGE OF 

What marry this foule queane, quoth Kaye 

P the devil's name anone ; 
Gett mee a wife wherever I maye, 

In sooth shee shall be none. 

Then some tooke up their hawkes in haste, 
And some tooke up their houndes ; 

And sayd they wolde not marry her, 
For cities, nor for townes. 

Then bespake him king Arthure, 

And sware there by this daye ; 
For a little foule sighte and mislikinge, 

Yee shall not say her naye. 

Peace, lordings, peace ; sir Gawaine sayd ; 

Nor make debate and strife ; 
This lothlye ladye I will take, 

And marry her to my wife. 

Nowe thankes, nowe thankes, good sir Gawaine, 

And a blessinge be thy meede ! 
For as I am thine owne ladye, 

Thou never shalt rue this deede. 

Then up they took that lothly dame, 

And home anone they bringe : 
And there sir Gawaine he her wed, 

And married her with a ringe, 



SIR GAWAINE. 93 

And when they were in wed-bed laid, 

And all were done awaye : 
" Come turne to mee, mine owne wed-lord, 

Come turne to mee I praye." 

Sir Gawaine scant could lift his head, 

For sorrowe and for care; 
When lo ! instead of that lothelye dame, 

Hee sawe a young ladye faire. 

Sweet blushes stayn'd her rud-red cheeke, 

Her eyen were blacke as sloe : 
The ripening cherrye swellde her lippe, 

And all her necke was snowe. 

Sir Gawaine kissM that lady brighte, 

Lying there by his side : 
" The fairest flower is not soe faire : 

Thou never can'st bee my bride." 

I am thy bride, mine owne deare lorde, 
The same whiche thou didst knowe, 

That was soe lothlye, and was wont 
Upon the wild more to goe. 

Now, gentle Gawaine, chuse, quoth shee, 

And make thy choice with care ; 
Whether by night, or else by daye, 

Shall I be foule or faire ? 



94 THE MARRTAGE OF 

" To have thee foule still in the night, 

In soothe would me dismay ; 
I had rather farre, my lady deare, 

To have thee foule by daye." 

What when gaye ladyes goe with their lordes 

To drinke the ale and wine ; 
Alas ! then I must hide myself, 

I must not goe with mine ? 

" My faire ladye, sir Gawaine sayd, 

I yield me to thy skille; 
Because thou art mine owne ladye 

Thou shalt have all thy wille." 

Nowe blessed be thou, sweete Gawaine 

And the daye that I thee see ; 
For as thou seest mee at this time, 

Soe shall I ever bee. 

My father was an aged knighte, 

And yet it chanced soe, 
He tooke to wife a false ladye, 

Whiche broughte me to this woe. 

Shee witch* d mee, being a faire yonge maide, 

In the greene forest to dwelle ; 
And there to abide in lothlye shape, 

Most like a fiend of helle. 



SIR GAWAINE. 95 

Midst mores arid inosses; woods, and wilds ; 

To lead a lonesome life : 
Till some yong faire and courtlye knighte 

Wolde marrye me to his wife : 

Nor fully to gaine mine owne trewe shape, 

Such was her devilish skille ; 
Until he wolde yielde to be rul'd by mee, 

And let mee have all my wille. 

She witch'd my brother to a carlish boore, 
And made him stifle and stronge ; 

And built him a bowre on magicke grounde, 
To live by rapine and wronge. 

But now the spelle is broken throughe, 

And wronge is turnde to righte ; 
Henceforth I shall bee a faire ladye, 

And hee be a gentle knighte. 




KING ARTHUR'S DEATH. 




HE following is the narrative 
given in the " Morte d 'Arthur" 
of the events which followed 
the wound of the king in the 
battle of Camlan : — 
" Therforesayd Arthur vnto 
syr Bed were, take thou Excalybur my good 
swerde. and goo with it to yonder water syde, 
and whan thou comest there I charge the throwe 
my swerde in that water & come ageyn and 
telle me what thou there seest. My lord said 
Bed were your commaundement shal be doon & 
lyghtly brynge you worde ageyn. So syr Bed- 
were departed, & by the waye he behelde that 
noble swerde that the pomel & the hafce was 
al of precyous stones, & thenne he sayd to 
hym self yf I throwe this ryche swerde in the 
water therof shal neuer come good but harme 
& losse. And thenne syr bedwere hydde 



KING ARTHUR'S DEATH. 97 

excalybur vnder a tree: And so as sone as he 
niyght he came ageyn vnto the kyng and sayd 
he had ben at the water and had throwen the 
swerde in to the water. What sawe thou there 
sayd the kyng, syr he sayd I sawe no thynge 
but wawes and wyndes. That is vntrewly sayd of 
the sayd the kynge. Therefore goo thou lyghte- 
lye ageyn and do my commaundemente as thou 
arte to me lefe & dere spare not but throwe it 
in. Than syr bedwere retorned ageyn & took 
the swerde in hys hande, and than hym thought 
synne and shame to throwe awaye that nobyl 
swerde, and so efte he hydde the swerde and 
retorned ageyn and tolde to the kyng that he 
had ben at the water and done his commaunde- 
mente. What sawe thou there sayd the kyng. 
Syr he sayd I sawe no thynge but the waters 
wappe and wawes wanne. A traytour vntrewe 
sayd kyng Arthur now hast thou betrayed me 
twyse. Who wold haue wente that thou that 
hast been to me so leef and dere and thou arte 
named a noble knyghte and wold betray e me 
for the richesse of the swerde. But now goo 
ageyn lyghtly for thy longe taryeng putteth me 
in grete jeopardye of my lyf. For I haue taken 
colde, and but yf thou do now as I byd the, yf 
euer I may see the I shal slee the (wyth) myn 
owne handes, for thou woldest for my ryche 
swerde see me dede. Thenne Syr Bedwere 
departed and wente to the swerde and lyghtly 



98 KING ARTHUR'S DEATH. 

took hit up, and wente to the water syde and 
there he bounde the gyrdyl aboute the hyltes, 
and thenne he threwe the swerde as farre in to 
the water as he myght, & there cam an arme 
and an hande aboue the water and mette it, & 
caught it and so shoke it thryse and braun- 
dysshed, and than vanysshed awaye the hande 
wyth the swerde in the water. So syr Bedvvere 
came ageyn to the kyng and tolde hym what he 
sawe. Alas sayd the kyng helpe me hens for I 
drede me I haue taryed ouer longe. Than syr 
Bed were toke the kyng vpon his backe and so 
wente wyth hym to that water syde, & whan 
they were at the water syde, euyn fast by the 
banke houed a lytyl barge wyth many fayr ladyes 
in hit, & emonge hem al was a quene, and al 
they had blacke hoodes, and al they wepte and 
shryked whan they sawe Kyng Arthur. 

Now put me in to the barge, sayd the kyng 
and so he dyd softelye. And there receyued 
hym thre quenes wyth grete mornyng and soo 
they sette hem doun, and in one of their lappes 
kyng Arthur layed hys heed, and than that 
quene sayd, a dere broder why haue ye taryed 
so longe from me. Alas this wounde on your 
heed hath caught ouermoche colde. And soo 
than they rowed from the londe, and syr bed were 
behelde all the ladyes goo from hym. Than syr 
bedwere cryed a my lord Arthur what shal 
become of me now ye goo from me. And leue 



KING ARTHUR'S DEATH. 99 

me here allone emonge myn enemyes. Comfort 
thy self sayd the kyng and doo as wel as thou 
mayst, for in me is no truste for to truste in. 
For I wyl in to the vale of avylion to hele me of 
my greuous wounde. And yf thou here neuer 
more of me praye for my soule ; but euer the 
quenes and lad yes wepte and shryched that hit 
was pyte to here. And assone as syr Bed were 
had loste the syght of the barge he wepte and 
waylled and so took the foreste, and so he wente 
al that nyght, and in the mornyng he was ware 
betwixte two holtes hore of a chapel and an er- 
mytage." 

Camlan, the scene of the last battle of King 
Arthur, is most probably Camelford, in Cornwall, 
about five miles from Tintagel. Traditions of a 
fierce engagement are still preserved in this 
district; a ford across the Camel is known as 
" the Bloody Bridge," and about one hundred 
yards farther up, on the bank of the stream, is a 
fallen maen, of the later British aera, having the 
name of Arthur inscribed on its lower side ; it 
was standing in Polwhele's time; tumuli are 
frequent on the surrounding moors. 



m&m^^^^mkg&g&$&$& 



KING ARTHUR'S DEATH. 

ON Trinity e Mondaye in the morne, 
This sore battayle was doom'd to bee ; 
Where manye a knighte cry'd Well-avvaye ! 
Alacke, it was the more pittie. 

Ere the first crowinge of the cocke, 
When as the kinge in his bed laye, 

He thoughte sir Gawaine to him came, 
And there to him these wordes did saye. 

Nowe, as you are mine unkle deare, 
And as you prize your life, this daye 

O meete not with your foe in fighte ; 
Putt off the battayle, if yee maye. 

For sir Launcelot is nowe in Fraunce, 
And with him many an hardye knighte : 

Who will within this moneth be backe, 
And will assiste yee in the fighte. 

The kinge then call'd his nobles all, 
Before the breakinge of the daye ; 

And tolde them howe sir Gawaine came, 
And there to him these wordes did saye. 



KING ARTHUR'S DEATH. 101 

His nobles all this counsayle gave, 

That early e in the morning-, hee 
Shold send awaye an herauld at armes, 

To aske a parley faire and free. 

Then twelve good knightes king Arthure chose, 
The best of all that with him were : 

To parley with the foe in field, 

And make with him agreement faire. 

The king he charged all his hoste, 

In readinesse there for to bee : 
But noe man sholde noe weapon sturre, 

Unlesse a sword drawne they shold see. 

And Mordred on the other parte, 

Twelve of his knights did likewise bringe ; 

The beste of all his companye, 
To hold the parley with the kinge. 

Sir Mordred alsoe charged his hoste, 

In readinesse there for to bee ; 
But noe man sholde noe weapon sturre, 

But if a sworde drawne they shold see. 

For he durste not his unkle truste, 
Nor he his nephewe, sothe to tell : 

Alacke ! it was a woefulle case, 
As ere in Christentye befelle. 



102 KING ARTHUR'S DEATH. 

But when they were together mette, 
And both to faire accordance broughte; 

And a month's league between e them sette, 
Before the battayle sholde be foughte ; 

An addere crept forth of a bushe, 

Stunge one o' th' king's knightes on the knee 
Alacke ! it was a woefulle chance, 

As ever was in Christentie. 

When the knighte found him wounded sore, 
And sawe the wild-worme hanginge there; 

His sworde he from his scabberde drewe : 
A piteous case, as ye shall heare. 

For when the two hostes sawe the sworde, 
They joyned battayle instantlye ; 

Till of soe manye noble knightes, 
On one side there were left but three. 

For all were slain that durst abide, 
And but some fewe that fled awaye: 

Ay mee ! it was a bloodye fielde, 

As ere was foughte on summer's daye. 

Upon king Arthur's own partye, 

Onlye himselfe escaped there, 
And Lukyn duke of Gloster free, 

And the king's butler Bedevere. 



KING ARTHUR'S DEATH. 103 

And when the king beheld his knightes, 
All dead and scattered on the molde ; 

The teares fast trickled downe his face ; 
That manlye face in fight so bolde. 

No we reste yee all, brave knightes he said, 
So true and faithful to your trust : 

And must yee then, ye valiant hearts, 
Be lefte to moulder into dust ! 

Most loyal have yee been to mee, 
Most true and faithful unto death e : 

And, oh ! to rayse yee up againe, 

How freelye could I yield my breathe ! 

But see the traitor's yet alive, 

Lo where hee stalkes among the deade ! 
No we bitterly e he shall abye : 

And vengeance fall upon his head. 

staye, my liege, then sayd the duke ; 

staye for love and charitie ; 
Remember what the vision spake, 

Nor meete your foe, if it may bee. 

0, staye mee not, thou worthye wight, 

This debt my loyal knights I owe : 
Betide me life, betide me death, 

1 will avenge them of their foe. 



104 KING ARTHUR'S DEATH. 

Then straite he grasp'd his trustye speare, 
And on his horse then mounted hee : 

As his butler holpe him to his horse, 
His bowels gushed to his knee. 

Alas ! then sayd the noble king, 
That I should live this sight to see ! 

To see this good knight here be slaine, 
All for his love in helping mee ! 

He put his speare into his resle, 
And to sir Mordred loud gan crye ; 

Now sette thyself upon thy guarde, 
For, traitor, no we thy death is nye. 

Sir Mordred lifted up his sworde, 
And fierce to meet the king ran hee : 

The king his speare he through him thrust ; 
A fathom thorow his bodle. 

When Mordered felt the stroke of death, 
And found that he was wounded soe ; 

He thruste himselfe upon the speare, 
And strucke the king a deadlye blowe. 

Then grimmlye dyed sir Mordered, 

Presentlye upon that tree : 
And bloody streames ranne from the kinge 

Ere to the duke returned hee. 



KING ARTHUR'S DEATH. 105 

Sir Lukyn then he thus bespake, 

Sir knighte, thou hast beene failhfulle tryde, 
Nowe take my sword Excalibar, 

That hangs so freely e by my syde ; 

O take my sword Excalibar, 

And there into the river throwe : 
For here, henceforth, benethe this tree, 

All use of weapons I foregoe. 

And fare thee well, thou trustye sword, 
A better neer had valiant knighte, 

With thee full ofte, and manye a daye, 
Have I withstood my foe in fighte. 

With this good fauchion in my hande, 
Oft have I reapd the bloody feelde : 

But nowe the fatalle houre is come, 
That never more I may thee weelde. 

The duke to the river side he went, 

And there his ovvne sword in threwe he : 

But he kept back Excalibar, 
He kept it back in privitie. 

For all of coleyne 1 was the blade ; 

And all the hilte of precious stone : 
And ever alacke ! then sayd the knighte, 

Must such a sworde awaye be throwne ? 

1 Cologne steel. 
L 



106 KING ARTHUR'S DEATH, 

Then backe he came unto the kinge, 

Who sayd, Sir Lukyn, what did yee see ? 

Nothing, my liege, save that the winde 
Blevve oer the waters faire and free. 

O goe againe, then said the kinge, 
O good sir Lukyn, goe againe : 

Into the rivere throwe my sworde, 

Nor keepe me lingering here in paine. 

The duke then to the river went, 

And the kings scabberd in threwe hee ; 

But hee kept backe Excalibar, 
And hid it undernethe a tree. 

Then backe he came to tell the kinge, 
Who sayde, Sir Lukyn, sawe ye oughte ? 

Nothinge, my liege, save that the winde 
Now with the angrye waters fought. 

O Lukyn, Lukyn, said the kinge, 
Twice haste thou dealt deceytfullye : 

Alacke, whom may wee ever truste, 

When suche a knighte soe false can bee? 

Saye, wouldst thou have thy master dead ; 

All for a sword, that wins thine eye : 
Nowe goe againe, and throwe it in, 

Or here the one of us shall dye. 



KING ARTHUR'S DEATH. 107 

The duke, all shent with this rebuke, 
No aunswere made unto the kinge : 

But to the rivere tooke the svvorde, 
And threwe it far as he coulde flinge. 

A hande and an arme did meete the svvorde, 
And flourishd three times in the air; 

Then sunke benethe the renninge streme, 
And of the duke was seene noe mair. 

All sore astonied stood the duke ; 

He stood as still, as still mote bee : 
Then hastened backe to telle the kinge ; 

But he was gone from under the tree 

But to what place he cold not tell, 
For never after hee did him spye : 

But hee sawe a barge goe from the land, 
And hee heard lad yes howle and crye. 

And whether the kinge were there, or not, 
Hee never knewe, nor ever colde : 

For from that sad and direfulle daye, 
Hee never more was seene on molde. 




SIR ALDINGAR. 




IR Walter Scott {Border Min- 
strelsy, vol. iii.) supposes the 
Scottish ballad of Sir Hugh le 
Blond to have been the ori- 
ginal of Sir Aldingar ; however 
this may be, the English ver- 
sion of the story is unquestionably the finer. In 
Sir Hugh le Blond, a mortal champion combats 
for the queen instead of the " tiny boye, ycladd 
in mantle of gold," concerning whom it is diffi- 
cult to say whether he is an Angelic Being, or 
Oberon, the king of Elf-Land ; the description of 
" le nain faee" in the romance of Huon de Bor- 
deaux, agrees perfectly with the ballad : — " vestu 



SIR ALD1NGAR. 109 

estoit dune robe si tres riche que merueilles 
seroit de le racompter pour la grande et merveil- 
leuse richesse que dessus estoit, car tant y avoit 
de pierres precieuses que la grande clarte quelles 
gettoient estoit pareille au soleil quand il fust 
bien cler." Huon de Bordeaux, ch. xx. 

This ballad was first printed by Bishop Percy 
" with conjectural emendations, and the inser- 
tion of some additional stanzas to supply and 
complete the story." 



SIR ALDINGAR. 

OUR king he kept a false stewarde, 
Sir Aldingar they him call ; 
A falser steward than he was one, 

Servde not in bower nor hall. 
He wolde have layne by our comelye queene, 

Her deere worshippe to betraye : 
Our queene she was a good woman 
And evermore said him naye. 

Sir Aldingar was wrothe in his mind, 

With her hee was never content, 
Till traiterous meanes he colde devyse, 

In a fyer to have her brent. 
There came a lazar to the kings gate 

A lazar both blinde and lame : 
He tooke the lazar upon his backe, 

Him on the queenes bed has layne. 

" Lye still, Lazar, whereas thou lyest, 
" Looke thou goe not hence away ; 

" lie make thee a whole man and a sound 
" In two howers of the day." 1 



1 He probably insinuates that the king should heal him 
by his power of touching for the king's evil. Percy. 



SIR ALDINGAR. 1 1 1 

Then went him forth sir Aldingar, 

And hyed him to our king : 
" If I might have grace, as I have space, 

" Sad tydings I could bring." 

Say on, say on, sir Aldingar, 

Saye on the soothe to mee. 
" Our queene hath chosen a new new love, 

" And shee will have none of thee. 
** If shee had chosen a right good knight, 

" The lesse had beene her shame ; 
" But shee hath chose her a lazar man, 

" A lazar both blind and lame." 

If this be true, thou Aldingar, 

The tyding thou tellest to me, 
Then will I make thee a rich rich knight, 

Rich both of golde and fee. 
But if it be false, sir Aldingar, 

As God nowe grant it be : 
Thy body, I sweare by the holye rood, 

Shall hang on the gallows tree. 

He brought our king to the queenes chamber, 

And opened to him the dore. 
A lodlye love, king Harry says, 

For our queene dame Elinore ! 
If thou were a man, as thou art none, 

Here on my sword thoust dye : 
But a payre of new gallowes shall be built, 

And there shalt thou hang on hye. 



112 SIR ALDINGAR. 

Forth then hyed, our king, I wysse, 

And an angry man was hee ; 
And soone he found queene Elinore, 

That bride so bright of blee. 
Now God you save, our queene, madame, 

And Christ you save and see ; 
Heere you have chosen a newe newe love, 

And you will have none of mee. 

If you had chosen a right good knight, 

The lesse had been your shame ; 
But you have chose you a lazar man, 

A lazar both blinde and lame. 
Therefore a fyer there shall be built, 

And brent all shalt thou bee. — 
" Now out alacke ! said our comly queene, 

Sir Aldingar's false to mee. 

Now out alacke ! said our comlye queene 

My heart with griefe will brast. 
I had thought swevens 1 had never been true; 

I have proved them true at last ; — : 
I dreamt in my sweven on Thursday eve, 

In my bed whereas I laye, 
I dreamt a grype 2 and a grimlie beast 

Had carried my crowne awaye. 



1 Dreams, visions. 2 A griffin. 



SIR ALDINGAR. 113 

My gorgett and my kirtle of golde, 

And all my faire head-geere ; 
And he wold worrye me with his beake 

And to his nest y-beare : 
Saving there came a little gray hawke, 

A merlin him they call, 
Which untill the grounde did strike the grype, 

That dead he downe did fall. 1 

Giffe I were a man as now I am none, 

A battell wold I prove, 
To fight with that traitor Aldingar ; 

Att him I cast my glove. 
But seeing Ime able noe battell to make, 

My liege, grant me a knight 
To fight with that traitor, Sir Aldingar, 

To maintaine me in my right." 2 



1 " Oh I was upon a mountain, in a bare and desert place, 
And 1 saw a mighty eagle, and a faulcon he did chase, 
And to me the faulcon came — and I hid it in my breast, 
But the mighty bird pursuing, came and rent away my vest ; 
And he scattered all the feathers, and blood was on his beak, 
And ever as he tore and tore, I heard the faulcon shriek — 
Now read my vision damsels — now read my dream to me, 
For my heart may well be heavy, that doleful sight to see." 

Lockhart. — The dream of the Lady Alda. 

2 An ancient German Custumal contains a very curious 
notice of a battle trial in which the woman undertook the 
defence of her own cause. 

'* In order to equalize the strength of the combatants, the 



114 SIR ALDINGAR. 

" Now forty dayes I will give thee 

To seeke thee a knight therm : 
If* thou find not a knight in forty dayes 

Thy bodye it must brenn." 
Then shee sent east, and shee sent west, 

By north and south bedeene : 
But never a champion colde she find, 

Wolde fight with that knight soe keene. 

Now twenty dayes were spent and gone, 
Noe helpe there might be had ; 



male hero was placed in a circular pit, in which he stood as 
low as his girdle, armed with an oaken club or staff, of the 
length of a good cloth ell. The virago on her part, was 
furnished with a sling or rope of equal measure, and at the 
end of the sling was tied a heavy stone ; with this weapon 
she endeavoured to fell her antagonist : he parried and 
shifted as well as he could, striving to twist his club in the 
sling : if he succeeded he would be in the way of winning 
the fight, for the sling was tied to the woman's arm, and he 
could drag her easily within reach of his fists and staff, and 
then she was at his mercy." 

By the ancient law of the Angles, the cause of the woman 
was defended by her nearest kinsman. If no champion 
could be found, she was to prove her innocence by treading 
with naked feetover burning plough-shares. — SirF.Palgrave's 
Hist, of the English Commonwealth. (Proofs and Illustrations, 
p. cci.) 

1 The " damsel errant," is frequently met with in romance : 
" Now the kinge would eate no meate on the Whitsundaye, 
till he had heard of some adventure ; And then there came 
a squire to the king, and said, " Sir, ye may go to your meate, 



SIR ALU1NGAR. 1 15 

Many a teare shed our comelye queene 

And aye her hart was sad. 
Then came one of the queenes damselles, 

And knelt upon her knee, 
" Cheare up, cheare up, my gracious dame, 

I trust yet helpe may be : 

And here I will make mine avowe, 

And with the same me binde ; 
That never will I return to thee, 

Till I some helpe may finde." ] 



for here commeth a damosel with some strange adventure ;" 
Then was the kinge glad, and set him down ; Right so there 
came in a damosel, and saluted the kinge, and praied him 
for succour For whom, said the kinge ; what is the adven- 
ture ? " Sir, said she, I have a Ladye of grete worship and 
renowne, and she is beseiged with a tyrant, soe that she 
maye not goe oute of her castell, and because that heere in 
your court are called the noblest knights in the world, I 
come unto you, and pray you for succour;" " What call you 
your Lady, and where dwelleth she, and who is hee, and 
what is his name that hath beseiged her. Sir Kinge, said 
she, as for my Ladye's name, that shall not be knowne for 
me as at this time. But I tel you wit she is a Lady of great 
worship, and of great lands; and as for the tyrant that be- 
seigeth her, and destroyeth her land, hee is called the redde 
knight of the redde laundes ; I know him not, said the king. 
Sir, said Sir Gawain, I know him well, for he is one of the 
perilous knights of the world ; men sayen that he hath seaven 
menne's strength, and from him I escaped once full hard 
with my life." " Faire damoselle said the King, there be 
knights beer that would do theyr power to rescew your 



116 SIR ALDINGAR. 

Then forth she rode on a faire palfraye 

Oer hill and dale about : 
But never a champion colde she finde, 

Wolde fighte with that knight so stout. 

And no we the daye drewe on apace, 

When our good queene must dye : 
All woe-begone was that faire damselle, 

When she found no helpe was nye. 
All woe-begone was that faire damselle, 

And the salt teares fell from her eye ; 
When lo ! as she rode by a rivers side, 

She met with a tinye boye. 

A. tinye boye, she mette, God wot, 

All clad in mantle of golde; 
He seemed noe more in man's likenesse, 

Then a childe of four yeare olde. 
Why grieve you, damselle faire, he sayd, 

And what doth cause you moane ? 
The damsell scant wolde d eigne a looke, 

But fast she pricked on. 

Yet turn againe, thou faire damselle, 
And greete thy queene from mee : 



Ladye, but because ye will not tell her name, nor where she \ 
dwelleth, therefore none of my knights that be here now, 
shal goe with you by my will." " Thenne must I speake 
further, said the damosel." — MortecV Arthur, bk. I. ch. cxxi. 
Some curious instances will be found in Amadis de Gaul. 



SIR ALD1NGAR. 117 

When bale is att hyest, boote is nyest, 

Now helpe enoughe may bee. 
Bid her remember what she dreamt 

In her bedd, whereas shee laye ; 
How when the grype and the grimly beast 

Wolde have carried her crowne awaye, 

Even then there came the little gray hawke, 

And saved her from his claws : 
Then bid the queene be merry at hart, 

For heaven will fende her cause. 
Back then rode that faire damselle, 

And her hart it lept for glee : 
And when she told her gracious dame 

A glad woman then was shee. 



But when the appointed day was come, 

No helpe appeared nye : 
Then woeful, woeful was her hart, 

And the teares stood in her eye. 
And nowe a fyer was built of wood ; 

And a stake was made of tree ; 
And now queene Elinore forth was led 

A sorrowful sight to see. 

Three times the herault he waued his hand 
And three times shake on hye : 

" GirT any good knight will fende this dame, 
Come forth, or shee must dye." 



118 SIR ALDINGAR. 

No knight stood forth, no knight there came, 

No helpe appeared nye : 
And now the fyer was lighted up, — 

Queen Elinor she must dye. 

And now the fyer was lighted up, 

As hot as hot might be ; 
When riding upon a little white steed, 

The tinye boy they see. 
" Away with that stake, away with those brands, 

And loose our comelye queene ; 
I am come to fight with Sir Aldingar 

And prove him a traitor keene." 

Forth then stood Sir Aldingar, 

But when he saw the chylde, 
He laughed, and scoffed, and turned his backe, 

And weened he had been beguyled. 
" Now turne, now turne thee, Aldingar, 

And eyther fighte or flee ; 
I trust that I shall avenge the wronge, 

Thoughe I am so small to see." 

The boye pulled forth a well good sworde 

So gilt it dazzled the ee ; 
The first stroke stricken at Aldingar 

Smote off his legs by the knee : 
" Stand up, stand up, thou false traitor, 

And fight upon thy feete, 
For and thou thrive, as thou begin'st, 

Of height we shall be meete." 



SIR ALDINGAR. 119 

" A priest, a priest, says Aldingar, 

While I am a man alive, 
A priest, a priest, says Aldingar, 

Me for to houzle and shrive. 
I wolde have laine by our comlie queene, 

Bot shee wolde never consent 
Then I thought to betraye her unto our kinge 

In a fyer to have her brent. 

There came a lazar to the kings gates, 

A lazar both blind and lame ; 
I tooke the lazar upon my backe 

And on her bedd had him layne. 
Then ranne I to our comlye king 

These tidings sore to tell. 
But ever alacke ! says Aldingar, 

Falsing never doth well. 

Forgive, forgive me, queene, madame, 

The short time I must live." 
" Nowe Christ forgive thee, Aldingar, 

As freely I forgive.'' 
Here take thy queene, our king Harrye 

And love her as thy life, 
For never had a king in Christentye, 

A truer and fairer wife. 

King Henrye ran to claspe his queene, 

And loosed her full sone ; 
Then turned to look for the tinye boye ; 

— The boye was vanisht and gone. 



120 SIR ALDINGAR. 

But first he had touched the lazar man, 
And stroakt him with his hand : 

The lazar under the gallowes tree 
All whole and sounde did stand. 

The lazar under the gallowes tree, 
Was comelye, straight and tall ; 

King Henrye made him his head stewarde 
To wayte withinn his hall. 




THE NUT-BROWN MAID. 



This beautiful old ballad has hitherto been discovered in no 
other work than Arnold's Chronicle, the oldest edition of 
which was printed about 1502. It is impossible to deter- 
mine either its date or its author. 



BE it ryght, or wrong, these men among 
On women do complayne ; 
Affyrmynge this, how that it is 

A labour spent in vayne, 
To love them well ; for never a dele, 1 

They loue a man agayne ; 
For late a man do what he can, 

Theyr favour to attayne, 
Yet, yf anewe do them pursue, 

Theyr first true lover than 
Laboureth for nought ; for from her thought 

He is a banyshed man. 

1 Deal. 

M 



122 THE NUT-BROWN MAID. 

I say nat nay, but that all day 

It is bothe writ and sayd 
That womans faith is, as who sayth, 

All utterly decay d ; 
But nevertheless^, ryght good wytnesse 

In this case might be layd, 
That they loue true, and continue 

Recorde the not-browne Mayde : 
Which from her love, when, her to prove, 

He came to make his mone, 
Wolde nat depart; for in her hart 

She loved but hym alone. 

Than betwaine us late us dyscus, 

What was all the manere 
Betwayne them two ; we wyll also 

Tell all the payne, and fere, 
That she was in ; nowe I begyn, 

So that ye me answere ; 
Wherefore, all ye, that present be 

I pray you gyve an ere. 
" I am the knyght ; I come by nyght, 

As secret as I can ; 
Sayinge, alas ! thus standeth the case, 

I am a banyshed man." 

And I your wyll, for to fulfyll 

In this wyll nat refuse ; 
Trustying to shewe, in wordes fewe, 

That men have an yll use 



THE NUT-BROWN MAID. 123 

(To theyr own shame) women to blame, 

And causelesse them accuse ; 
Therefore to you I answere nowe, 

All women to excuse, — 
Myne owne hart dere, with you what chere. ? 

I pray you, tell anone ; 
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde 

I love but you alone. 

It standeth so; a dede is do, 

Whereof grete harme shall growe 
My destiny is for to dy 

A shameful deth, I trowe ; 
Or elles to fle : the one must be. 

None other way I knowe, 
But to withdrawe as an outlawe, 

And take me to my bowe. 
Wherefore, adue, my owne hart true ! 

None other rede I can : l 
For I must to the grene wode go> 

Alone a banyshed man. 

O Lord, what is thys worldys blysse, 

That changeth as the mone ! 
My somers day in lusty May 

Is derked before the none. 



1 ' I can suggest no other plan. 



124 THE NUT-BROWN MAID. 

I here you say, farewell: nay, nay, 

We depart nat so sone. 
Why say ye so ? wheder wyll ye go? 

Alas ! what have ye done ? 
All my welfare to sorrowe and care 

Sholde chaunge, yf ye were gone ; 
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde, 

I love but you alone. 

I can beleve, it shall you greve, 

And somewhat you dystrayne ; 
But, afterwarde, your paynes harde 

Within a day or twayne 
Shall sone aslake ; and ye shall take 

Comfort to you agayne. 
Why sholde ye nought? for, to make thought, 

Your labour were in vayne. 
And thus I do ; and pray you lo, 

As hartely, as I can ; 
For I must to the grene wode go, 

Alone a banyshed man. 

Now, syth that ye have shewed to me 

The secret of your mynde, 
I shall be playne to you agayne, 

Lyke as ye shall me fynde. 
Syth it is so, that ye wyll go, 

I wolle not leave behynde ; 
Shall never be sayd, the Not-browne Mayd, 

Was to her love unkynde : 



THE NUT-BROWN MAID. 125 

Make you redy, for so am I, 

Although it were anone ; 
For in my mynde of all mankynde, 

I love but you alone. 

Yet I you rede to take good hede 

What men wyll thynke, and say ; 
Of yonge, and olde, it shall be tolde, 

That ye be gone away, 
Your wanton wyll for to fulfill, 

In grene wode you to play ; 
And that ye myght from your delyght 

No lenger make delay : 
Rather than ye sholde thus for me 

Be called an yll woman, 
Yet wolde I to the grene wode go, 

Alone a banyshed man. 

Though it be songe of olde and yonge, 

That I sholde be to blame, 
Theyrs be the charge, that speake so large 

In hurtynge of my name : 
For I wyll prove, that faythfulle love 

It is devoyd of shame ; 
In your dystresse and hevynesse, 

To part with you, the same : 
And sure all tho, that do not so, 

True lovers are they none ; 
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde 

I love but you alone. 



126 THE NUT-BROWN MAID. 

I counceyll you, remember howe, 

It is no maydens lawe, 
Nothynge to dout, but to renne out 

To wode with an outlawe ; 
For ye must there in your hand bere 

A bowe, ready to drawe ; 
And, as a thefe, thus must you lyve, 

Ever in drede and awe 
Wherby to you grete harme myght growe 

Yet had I lever than, 
That I had to the grene wode go, 

Alone a banyshed man. 

I thinke nat nay, but as ye say, 

It is no maydens lore : 
But love may make me for your sake, 

As I have sayd before 
To come on fote, to hunt, and shote, 

To gete us mete in store ; 
For so that I your company 

May have, I aske no more : 
From which to part, it maketh my hart 

As colde as ony stone ; 
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde 

I love but you alone. 

For an outlawe, this is the lawe, 
That men hym take and bynde ; 

Without pyte, hanged to be, 
And waver with the wynde. 



THE NUT-BROWN MAID. 12* 

If I had nede, (as God forbede !) 

What rescous l coude ye fynde ? 
Forsoth, I trowe, ye and your bowe 

For fere wolde drawe behynde : 
And no mervayle ; for lytell avayle 

Were in your counceyle them : 
Wherfore I to the wode wyl go 

Alone a banyshed man. 

Ryght wele knowe ye, that women be 

But feble for to fyght ; 
No womanhede it is indede 

To be bolde as a knight: 
Yet, in such fere, yf that ye were 

With enemyes day or nyght, 
I wolde withstande, with bowe in hande, 

To greve them as I myght, 
And you to save ; as women have 

From deth many one : 
For, in my mynde of all mankynde 

I love but you alone. 

Yet take good hede, for ever I drede 

That ye coude nat sustayne 
The thornle wayes, the depe valeies, 

The snowe, the frost, the reyn, 
The colde, the hete: for dry, or wete, 

We must lodge on the playne ; 



1 Re 



128 THE NUT-BROWN MAID. 

And, us aboue, none other rofe 
But a brake 1 bush, or twayne : 

Which sone sholde greve you, I beleve ; 
And ye wolde gladly than 

That I had to the grene wode go, 
Alone a ban y shed man. 

Syth I have here bene partynere 

With you of joy and blysse, 
I must also parte of your wo 

Endure, as reason is : 
Yet am I sure of one pleasure ; 

And, shortely, it is this : 
That, where ye be, me semeth, parde, 

I coude nat fare amysse, 
Without more speche, I you beseche 

That we were sone agone ; 
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde, 

I love but you alone. 

If ye go thyder, ye must consyder, 

Whan ye have lust to dyne 
There shall no mete be fore you gete, 

Nor drinke, beer, ale, ne wyne. 
No shetes clene, to lye betwene, 

Made of threde and twyne; 
None other house but leaves and bowes 

To cover your head and myne, 

1 Braken-bush ; fern. 



THE NUT-BROWN MAID. 129 

O myne harte swete, this evyll dyete 
Sholde make you pale and wan ; 

Wherfore I wyll to the grene wode go, 
Alone, a banyshed man. 

Amonge the wilde clere, such an archere 

As men say that ye be, 
Ne may nat fayle of good vitayle 

Where is so grete plente : 
And water clere of the ry vere 

Shall be full swete to me ; 
With which in hele 1 I shall ryght wele 

Endure, as ye shall see ; 
And, or we go, a bedde or two 

I can provyde anone ; 
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde 

I love but you alone. 

Lo yet, before, ye must do more, 

Yf ye wyll go with me ; 
As cut your here up by your ere, 

Your kyrtel by the kne ; 
With bowe in hande, for to withstande, 

Your enemyes, yf nede be : 
And this same nyght before day-lyght, 

To wode-warde wyll I fle. 
Yf that ye wyll all this fulfill, 

Do it shortely as ye can : 

1 Health. 



130 THE NUT-BROWN MAID. 

Els vvyll I to the grene wode go, 
Alone, a ban y shed man. 

I shall as nowe do more for you 

Than longeth to womanhede ; 
To short my here, a bowe to bere, 

To shote in tyme of nede. 
O my swete mother, before all other 

For you I have most drede : 
But nowe, adue ! I must ensue, 

Where fortune doth me lede. 
All this make yee : Now let us flee ; 

The day cometh fast upon ; 
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde 

I love but you alone. 

Nay, nay, nat so ; ye shall nat go, 

And I shall tell ye why, — 
Your appetyght is to be lyght 

Of love, I wele espy: 
For, lyke as ye have sayed to me, 

In lyke wyse hardely 
Ye wolde answere whosoever it were, 

In way of company- 
It is sayd of olde, sone hote, sone colde ; 

And so is a woman. 
Wherfore I to the wode wyll go, 

Alone, a banyshed man. 

Yf ye take hede, it is no nede 
Such wordes to say by me ; 



THE NUT-BROWN MAID. 13 i 

For oft ye prayed, and long assayed, 

Or I you loved, parde : 
And though that I of auncestry 

A barons daughter be, 
Yet have you proved how I you loved 

A squyer of low degre ; 
And ever shall, whatso befall ; 

To dy therefore 1 anone; 
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde 

I love but you alone. 

A barons chylde to be begylde ! 

It were a cursed dede ; 
To be felawe with an outlawe ! 

Almighty God forbede ! 
Yet better were the poor squyere 

Alone to forest yede, 
Than ye sholde say another day, 

That, by my wyked dede, 
Ye were betray'd : wherfore, good mayd, 

The best rede that I can, 
Is, that I to the grene wode go, 

Alone a banyshed man. 

Whatever befall, I never shall 

Of this thyng you upbrayd : 
But yf ye go, and leve me so, 

Than have ye me betray d. 

1 i. e. For this cause; though I were to die for having 
loved you. 



132 THE NUT-BROWN MAID. 

Remember you wele, howe that ye dele ; 

For, yf ye, as ye sayd, 
Be so unkynde, to leve behynde, 

Your love, the Not-browne mayd 
Trust me truly, that I shall dy 

Sone after ye be gone ; 
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde, 

I love but you alone. 

Yf that ye went, ye sholde repent ; 

For in the forest no we 
I have purvayed me of a mayd, 

Whom I love more than you ; 
Another fayrere, than ever ye were, 

I dare it wele avowe ; 
And of you bothe eche sholde be wrothe 

With other, as I trowe : 
It were myne ese, to ly ve in pese ; 

So wyll I, yf I can ; 
Wherfore I to the wode wyll go, 

Alone a banysbed man. 

Though in the wode I undyrstode 

Ye had a paramour, 
All this may nought remove my thought, 

But that I wyll be your ; 
And she shall fynde me soft, and kynde, 

And courteys every hour; 
Glad to fulfyll all that she wyll 

Commande me to my power : 



THE NUT-BROWN MAID. 133 

For had ye, lo, an hundred mo, 

Of thern I wolde be one ; 
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde, 

I love but you alone. 

Myne owne dere love, I se the prove 

That ye be kynde, and true ; 
Of mayde, and vvyfe, in all my lyfe, 

The best that ever I knevve. 
Be mery and glad, be no more sad, 

The case is chaunged newe ; 
For it were ruthe, that, for your truthe, 

Ye sholde have cause to re we. 
Be not dismayed; whatsoever I sayd 

To you, when I began ; 
I wyll not to the grene wode go, 

I am no banyshed man. 

These tydings be more gladd to me, 

Than to be made a quene, 
Yf I were sure they sholde endure ; 

But it is often sene, 
Whan men wyll breke promyse, they speke 

The wordes on the splene 
Ye shape some wyle me to begyle 

And stele from me I wene : 
Than were the case worse than it was, 

And I more woe-begone : 
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde 

I love but you alone. 



134 THE NUT-BROWN MAID. 

Ye shall not nede further to drede ; 

I wyll nat dysparage 
You, (God defend !) syth ye descend 

Of so grete a lynage. 
Nowe undyrstande ; to Westmarlande, 

Which is myne herytage, 
I wyll you brynge ; and with a rynge, 

By way of maryage 
I wyll you take, and lady make, 

As shortely as I can : 
Thus have you won an erlys son 

And not a banyshed man. 

Here may ye se, that women be 

In love, meke, kynde, and stable ; 
Late never man reprove them than, 

Or call them variable ; 
But, rather, pray God, that we may 

To them be comfortable ; 
Which sometyme proveth such, as he loveth, 

Yf they be chary table. 
For syth men wolde that women sholde 

Be meke to them each one ; 
Moche more ought they to God obey, 

And serve but Hym alone. 




THE CHILDREN IN THE WOOD. 

NOW ponder well, you parents deare, 
These wordes, which I shall write ; 
A doleful story you shall heare, 
In time brought forth to light. 
A gentleman of good account 

In Norfolke dwelt of late, 
Who did in honour far surmount 
Most men of his estate. 

Sore sicke he was, and like to dye, 

No helpe his life could save ; 
His wife by him as sicke did lye, 

And both possest one grave. 
No love between these two was lost, 

Each was to other kinde, 
In love they liv'd, in love they dyed, 

And left two babes behinde : 



136 THE CHILDREN 

The one a fine and pretty boy, 

Not passing- three yeares olde ; 
The other a girl more young than he, 

And fram'd in beautyes molde. 
The father left his little son, 

As plainlye doth appeare, 
When he to perfect age should come, 

Three hundred poundes a yeare. 

And to his little daughter Jane 

Five hundred poundes in gold, 
To be paid downe on marriage-day, 

Which might not be controlled : 
But if the children chance to dye, 

Ere they to age should come, 
Their uncle should possesse their wealth ; 

For so the wille did run. 

Now, brother, said the dying man, 

Look to my children deare ; 
Be good unto my boy and girl, 

No friend es else have they here : 
To God and you I recommend 

My children deare this daye; 
But little while be sure we have 

Within this world to staye. 

You must be father and mother both, 

And uncle all in one ; 
God knowes what will become of them, 

When I am dead and gone. 



IN THE WOOD. 137 

With that bespake their mother deare, 

O brother kinde, quoth shee, 
You are the man must bring our babes 

To wealth or miserie : 

And if you keep them carefully, 

Then God will you reward ; 
But if you otherwise should deal, 

God will your deedes regard. 
With lippes as cold as any stone, 

They kist their children small : 
God bless you both, my children deare ; 

With that the teares did fall. 

These speeches then their brother spake 

To this sicke couple there, 
The keeping of your little ones, 

Sweet sister, do not feare : 
God never prosper me nor mine, 

Nor aught else that I have, 
If I do wrong your children deare, 

When you are layd in grave. 

The parents being dead and gone 

The children home he takes, 
And bringes them straite unto his house, 

Where much of them he makes. 
He had not kept these pretty babes 

A twelvemonth and a daye, 
But for their wealth he did devise 

To make them both awaye. 

N 



138 THE CHILDREN 

He bargained with two ruffians strong-, 

Which were of furious mood, 
That they should take these children young, 

And slaye them in a wood. 
He told his wife an artful tale, 

He would the children send 
To be brought up in faire London, 

With one that was his friend. 

Away then went those pretty babes 

Rejoycing at that tide, 
Rejoycing with a merry minde, 

They should on cock-horse ride. 
They prate and prattle pleasantly 

As they rode on the way 
To those that should their butchers be, 

And worke their lives decaye : 

So that the pretty speeche they had, 

Made Murder's heart relent ; 
And they that undertooke the deed, 

Full sore did now repent. 
Yet one of them more hard of heart, 

Did vowe to do his charge, 
Because the wretch, that hired him, 

Had paid him very large. 

The other won't agree thereto, 

So here they fall to strife ; 
With one another they did fight 

About the childrens life : 



IN THE WOOD. 139 

And he that was of mildest mood, 

Did slaye the other there, 
Within an unfrequented wood ; 

The babes did quake for feare ! 

He took the children by the hand, 

Teares standing in their eye, 
And bad them straightwaye follow him, 

And look they did not crye : 
And two long miles he ledd them on, 

While they for food complaine : 
Staye here, quoth he, I'll bring you bread, 

When I come back againe. 

These pretty babes, with hand in hand, 

Went wandering up and downe ; 
But never more could see the man 

Approaching from the town ; 
Their prettye lippes with black-berries, 

Were all besmear'd and dyed, 
And when they sawe the darksome night, 

They sat them downe and cryed. 

Thus wandered these poor innocents, 

Till deathe did ende their grief, 
In one anothers armes they dyed, 

As wanting due relief: 
No burial this pretty pair 

Of any man receives, 
Till Robin-red-breast, piously 

Did cover them with leaves. 



140 THE CHILDREN 

And now the heavy wrathe of God 

Upon their uncle fell ; 
Yea, fearfull fiends did haunt his house, 

His conscience felt an hell : 
His barnes were fir'd, his goodes consumed, 

His landes were barren made, 
His cattle dyed within the field, 

And nothing with him stayd. 

And in a voyage to Portugal 

Two of his sonnes did dye; 
And to conclude, himselfe was brought 

To want and miserye : 
He pawned and mortgaged all his land 

Ere seven yeares came about. 
And now at length this wicked act 

Did by this meanes come out : 

The fellowe, that did take in hand 

These children for to kill, 
Was for a robbery judged to dye, 

Such was God's blessed will : 
Who did confess the very truth, 

As here hath been display'd : 
Their uncle having dyed in gaol, 

Where he for debt was layd. 

You that executors be made, 

And overseers eke 
Of children that be fatherless, 

And infants mild and meek ; 



IN THE WOOD. 141 



Take you example by this thing, 
And yield to each his right, 

Lest God with such like miserye 
Your wicked minds requite. 





THE 
SPANISH LADY'S LOVE. 



T was a tradition in the west 
of England, that the person 
admired by the Spanish Lady 
was a gentleman of the 
Popham family, and that 
her picture with the pearl 
necklace mentioned in the ballad, was not many 
years ago preserved at Littlecot, near Hungerford, 
Wilts, the seat of that respectable family. 

"Another tradition hath pointed out Sir Richard 
Levison, of Trentham, in Staffordshire, as the 
subject of this ballad ; who married Margaret 
daughter of Charles Earl of Nottingham ; and 
was eminently distinguished as a naval officer 
and commander in all the expeditions against 
the Spaniards in the latter end of Queen Eliza- 
beth's reign, particularly in that to Cadiz in 
1594, when he was aged twenty-seven. He died 
in 1 605, and has a monument, with his effigy in 
brass, in Wolverhampton Church." Percy. 



xasauat 



THE SPANISH LADY'S LOVE. 

WILL you hear a Spanish Lady, 
How shee wooed an English man ? 
Garments gay as rich as may be 
Decked with jewels she had on, 
Of a comely countenance and grace was she, 
And by birth and parentage of high degree. 

As his prisoner there he kept her, 

In his hands her life did lye; 
Cupid's bands did tye them faster 
By the liking of an eye 
In his courteous company was all her joy, 
To favour him in any thing she was not coy. 

But at last there came commandment 

For to set the ladies free, 
With their jewels still adorned, 
None to do them injury. 
Then said this lady mild, Full woe is me ; 
O let me still sustain this kind captivity ! 

Gallant captain, shew some pity 

To a ladye in distresse 
Leave me not within this city, 
For to dye in heavinesse : 
Thou hast set this present day my body free, 
But my heart in prison still remains with thee. 



144 THE SPANISH LADY'S LOVE. 

" How should'st thou, fair lady, love me, 
Whom thou knovv'st thy country's foe? 
Thy fair wordes make me suspect thee : 
Serpents lie where flowers grow." 
All the harm I wishe to thee, most courteous 

knight, 
God grant the same upon my head may fully 
light. 

Blessed be the time and season, 

That you came on Spanish ground ; 
If our foes you may be termed, 
Gentle foes we have you found : 
With our city, you have won our hearts eche one, 
Then to your country bear away, that is your owne. 

" Rest you still, most gallant lady ; 

Rest you still, and weep no more ; 
Of fair lovers there is plenty, 

Spain doth yield a wonderous store." 
Spaniards fraught with jealousy we often find, 
But Englishmen through all the world are 
counted kind. 

Leave me not unto a Spaniard, 

You alone enjoy my heart ; 
I am lovely, young, and tender, 
Love is likewise my desert ; 
Still to serve thee day and night my mind is prest ; 
The wife of every Englishman is counted blest. 



THE SPANISH LADY'S LOVE. 145 

" It wold be a shame, fair lady, 
For to bear a woman hence ; 
English soldiers never carry 
Any such without offence." 
I'll quickly change myself, if it be so, 
And like a page He follow thee, where'er thou go. 

" I have neither gold nor silver 
To maintain thee in this case, 
And to travel is great charges, 
As you know in every place." 
My chains and jewels every one shal be thy own, 
And eke five hundred 1 pounds in gold that lies 
unknown. 

" On the seas are many dangers, 

Many storms do there arise, 
Which wil be to ladies dreadful, 
And force tears from watery eyes." 
Well in troth I shall endure extremity, 
For I could find in heart to lose my life for thee. 

" Courteous ladye, leave this fancy, 

Here comes all that breeds the strife ; 
I in England have already 
A sweet woman to my wife : 
I will not falsify my vow for gold nor gain, 
Nor yet for all the fairest dames that live in 
Spain." 

1 So in the MS. 10,000/. P. C. 



146 THE SPANISH LADY'S LOVE. 

how happy is that woman 
That enjoys so true a friend ! 

Many happy days God send her ; 
Of my suit I make an end : 
On my knees I pardon crave for my offence, 
Which did from love and true affection first 
commence. 

Commend me to thy lovely lady, 
Bear to her this chain of gold ; 
And these bracelets for a token 
Grieving that I was so bold : 
All my jewels in like sort take thou with thee, 
For they are fitting for thy wife, but not for me. 

1 will spend my days in prayer, 
Love and all her laws defye; 

In a nunnery will I shroud mee 
Far from any companye : 
But ere my prayers have an end, be sure of this, 
To pray for thee and for thy love I will not miss. 

Thus farewell, most gallant captain ! 

Farewell too my heart's content ! 
Count not Spanish ladies wanton, 
Though to thee my love was bent : 
Joy and true prosperity goe still with thee ! 
" The like fall ever to thy share, most fair ladie." 





THE JEW'S DAUGHTER. 

DETAILED account of the 
transaction, which is the sub- 
ject of the following ballad, 
will be found in Matthew 
Paris, under the reign of 
Henry III. p. 912 ; ond Jamie- 
son (Popular Ballads, vol. i.) conceives the au- 
thority to be sufficiently strong to establish the 
fact of the narrative. It must be recollected, 
however, that in the reign of Henry III. the 
Jews were exposed even to more severe per- 
secution than ordinarily fell to their lot : see on 
this subject a highly curious paper appended 
to the third volume of Michaud, Histoire des 
Croisades. 






THE JEW'S DAUGHTER. 

THE rain rins down through Mirry land 
toune, 1 
Sae does it down the Pa ; 
Sae does the lads of Mirry land toune 
When they play at the ba. 

Then out and came the Jew's daughter 
Said, Will ye come in and dine? 

" I winna come in, I canna come in 
Without my play-fere's nine." 

She pulled an apple red and white, 

To entice the young thing in ; 
She pulled an apple white and red 

And that the sweet bairn did win. 

And she has ta'en out a little pen-knife 

And low down by her gair, 2 
She has twined 3 the young thing of his life 

A word he never spake rnair. 



1 Probably a corruption of " merry Lincoln." 

2 Gear, dress. 3 Parted, deprived. 



THE JEW'S DAUGHTER. 149 

And out and came the thick thick bluid, 

And out and came the thin ; 
And out and came the bonny heart's bluid — 

There was nae life left in. 



She laid him on a dressing board 

And drest him like a swine — 
And laughing said, Gae now and play 

With your sweet play-feres nine. 

She rowed him in a cake of lead, 

Bade him lie still and sleep — 
She cast him in a deep draw-well 

Was fifty fathom deep. 

When bells were rung, and mass was sung 

And every lady went hame; 
Then ilka lady had her young son 

But Lady Helen had nane. 

She rowed her mantell her about 
And sair, sair, 'gan she weep — 

And she ran into the Jew's castell, 
When they were all asleep. 

My bonny Sir Hugh — my pretty Sir Hugh- 

I pray thee to me speak — 
" Oh lady run to the deep draw well 

Gin ye your son wad seek.'' 



150 THE JEW'S DAUGHTER. 

Lady Helen ran to the deep draw well, 

And knelt upon her kne: 
" My bonny Sir Hugh, an ye be here, 

I pray thee speak to me." 

" The lead is wondrous heavy, mither, 
The well is wondrous deep — 

A keen penknife sticks in my heart 
A word I downa speak. 

Gae hame, gae hame, my mither dear, 
Fetch me my winding sheet, 

And at the back o* Mirry Land toun 
It's there we twa shall meet." 




BATTLE OF OTTERBOURNE. 




1385, Richard IT. invaded 
Scotland with an army " more 
potent in numbers and equip- 
ment than any which had 
visited that country for a long 
period." The whole of Liddes- 
dale and Teviotdale was wasted as the English 
soldiers passed on ; the abbeys of Melrose and 
Dryburgh were given to the flames ; Edinburgh 
burnt and plundered, and nothing spared but 
the abbey of Holy rood. It was to retaliate for 
this invasion that the expedition was set on foot 
in 1388, which led to the celebrated battle of 
Otterbourne. 

About the beginning of August, the Scottish 
army assembled at Yetholm, a village at the 



152 THE BATTLE OF 

foot of the Cheviot hills, and during the deliber- 
ations of the chiefs as to what line of invasion 
should be adopted, an English spy was dis- 
covered and carried to head quarters. From 
him they understood that the English were not 
sufficiently strong to give battle, but had deter- 
mined on a counter raid into Scotland as soon as 
it should be seen in what direction the Scottish 
invasion was to take place. Upon this, the Earl 
of Fife, second son of Robert II. who had been 
entrusted with the command of the expedition, 
separated his army into two great divisions. He 
himself, with Archibald Lord of Galloway, and 
the Earls of Sutherland, Monteith, Mar, and 
Strathern, at the head of a large force constituting 
nearly the third part of the army, advanced 
along the borders of Galloway towards Carlisle. 
The second division was placed under the com- 
mand of the Earl of Douglas, "a man/' says 
Godscroft, "in all kind of virtue worthy of his 
great father and honourable place." With him 
went the Earls of March and Moray ; Sir James 
Lindesay, Sir Alexander Ramsay, and Sir John 
Sinclair, three soldiers of great experience. 
With his small army the Earl of Douglas passed 
rapidly through Northumberland, crossed the 
Tyne near Brancepeth, wasted the country as far 
as the gates of Durham, and returned to Newcastle 
as rapidly as they had advanced. Several skir- 
mishes took place at the barriers of the town ; and 



OTTERBOURNE. 153 

in one of these Sir Henry Percy, the famous 
Hotspur, was personally opposed to Douglas. 
After an obstinate struggle the Earl won the 
pennon of the English leader, and boasted that 
he would carry it to Scotland and set it high on 
his castle of Dalkeith. " That," cried Hotspur, 
w no Douglas shall ever do, and ere you leave 
Northumberland you shall have small cause to 
boast." " Your pennon," answered Douglas, 
" shall this night be placed before my tent, come 
and win it if you can." But the Scots were suf- 
fered to retreat without any hostile attempts on 
the part of the English, and accordingly, after 
destroying the tower of Ponteland, they came on 
the second day to the castle of Otterbourn, 
situated in Redesdale, about thirty-two miles 
from Newcastle. Here they encamped on a 
rising ground called Fawdoun Hill, erecting 
barriers of felled trees in front of the camp as a 
defence against any sudden attack. 1 By this 
time Percy had become aware of his error in 
supposing the small force of Douglas to be the 
advanced guard of the main army of the Scots; 
he set out accordingly at the head of six hundred 
lances and eight thousand foot, without waiting 
for the Bishop of Durham, who was advancing 



1 " They made many lodgynges of bowes and grete herbes. 
and fortifyed their camp sagely with the maresse that was 
thereby." — Lord Berner's Froissart, vol. ii. ch. 141. 
O 



154 THE BATTLE OF 

with all his power, and came in sight of the 
Scot's encampment late in the evening. The 
first attack of the English was checked by the 
barrier and the brave defence of the servants and 
camp followers; and during this engagement, 
Douglas with his knights wound round the hill on 
which he was encamped and attacked the English 
in the rear. " In the mean time/' says Godscroft, 
" night drew on, which was troublesome and 
unwelcome to both, but being short, as in the 
northern parts it useth to be in July, and the 
season fair, the moon-light did serve them in- 
stead of day-light, and the fight was continued 
very hard, as amongst gallant men on both sides, 
who did esteem more of glory than life. Percy 
strove to repair the foil he had gotten at New- 
castle, and the Earl Douglas did as much labour 
to keep the honour he had won ; so in unequal 
number, but both equally eager in mind, they 
continued fighting a great part of the night. At 
last a cloud covering the face of the moon, not 
being able to discern friend from foe, they took 
some respite for a while, but so soon as the 
cloud was gone, the English gave so hard a 
charge, that the Scots were put back in such 
sort, that the Douglas's standard was in great 
peril to have been lost. This did so irritate him, 
that he himself in the one wing, and the two 
Hepburns (father and son) in the other, pressing 
through the ranks of their own men, and advan- 



OTTERBOURNE. 155 

ring to the place where the greatest peril appeared, 
renewed a hard conflict, and by giving and re- 
ceiving many wounds, they restored their men 
into the place from whence they had been beaten, 
and continued the fight until the next day at 
noon. The Earl Douglas not being satisfied, 
nor contenting himself with that, that he had 
renewed the battle, but himself with two com- 
panions, Robert Hart and Simon Glendinning, 
rushed into the midst of the enemies, and equal- 
ling the courage of his mind with the strength 
of his body whatsoever way he set himself, he 
made great havoc of the enemies. It was a 
wonder to see the great vassalage that he wrought : 
Major, in describing it, can make no end nor 
satisfy himself, his comparisons are high, like a 
lion of Libya. His description of his body is, 
that it was fair and well compacted, his strength 
huge, which he yet amplifieth with greater huge- 
ness, saying, that he fought with a mace of iron 
which two ordinary men were not able to lift, 
which, notwithstanding he did wield easily, 
making a great lane round about him whereso- 
ever he went ; his courage and confidence ap- 
peareth in his so valiant insisting, as though he 
would have slain the whole English army himself 
! alone, and seeking to find Henry Percy amongst 
! the midst of them, he was entered far within the 
! ranks of the enemies. Holinshed confesseth, 
j that with a great mace in his hand, he laid such 



156 THE BATTLE OF 

sad strokes about him, that none came within 
his reach but he went down to the ground. And 
Boetius saith plainly, he fought with a mace 
heavier than any man is able to bear in those 
days, and that rushing into the midst of his 
enemies, he made such a slaughter, that it was 
chiefly attributed to his valour that the Scots 
wan the field." l 

The Earl, however, threw himself too rashly 
into the press of English knights, and was borne 
to the earth, mortally wounded in the head and 
neck ; yet none knew for some time that he had 
fallen, and Sir James Lindesay was the first to 
discover his kinsman, who lay bleeding to death : 
by his side was Richard Lundin, a priest after- 
wards made Archdeacon of Aberdeen, who de- 
fended him with a halbert from further injury. 2 
Sir James, running up hastily, eagerly inquired 
how it fared with him. " Ryght yvell, cosen," 
answered Douglas, " but thanked be God there 
hath beene but a fewe of myne auncetours that 
hath dyed in their beddes : but, cosyn, I requyre 
you, thinke to revenge me, for I recon myself 



1 Hume of Godscroft. History of the house of Douglas ., 
and Angus, vol. i. p. 187. 

2 "And by hym...was a chapelayn of hys, nat lyke a 
preest, but lyke a valiaunt man of arms: for all that nyght 
he followed the erle with a good axe in his hands, and styll 
skrymmyshed about the erle there as he lay, and reculed 



OTTERBOURNE. 157 

but deed, for my herte faynteth oftentymes. My 
cosyn Walter and you, I praye you rayse up 
agayne my baner, whiche lyeth on the ground ; 
but sirs, shewe nother to freend nor foe, in what 
case ye see me in, for yf myne enemyes knew it 
they wolde rejoice, and our freendes discom- 
forted." ' Lindesay instantly obeyed, and the 
banner of the crowned heart again rose amid 
the cries of " Douglas !" so that the Scots firmly 
believed their leader was still in the field, and 
pressed on the English ranks with a courage 
which at last compelled them wholly to give way. 
Hotspur and his brother, Sir Ralph Percy, 
surrendered after a stout resistance, and along 
with them nearly the whole chivalry of North- 
umberland and Durham were either slain or 
taken. 2 " Of all the battayles," says Froissart, 
" that I have made mention of here before, in all 
thys hystorye, great or small, thys battayle was 
one of the sorest, and best foughten, without 
cowards or faint hertes : for ther was nother 
knyght nor squyre but that dyde hys devoyre, 
and fought hand to hand." 3 The body of 



back some of the Englysshemen wyth grete strokes that lie 
gave. ..he was a tall man and a hardy, and was sore hurt." 
Froissart, vol. ii. ch. 144. 

1 Lord Berner's Froissart, vol. ii. ch. 143. 

s Godscroft: Froissart: Frazer Tytler, History of Scot- 
land, vol. iii. 

3 Froissart, vol. ii. ch. 144. 



158 THT. BATTLE OF OTTERBOURNE. 

Douglas was carried by the army to Melrose, 
and buried in the sepulchre of his fathers. 

The spot where the Douglas is said to have 
fallen, is marked by an obelisk about fifteen feet 
high, called the Battle Stone; Earl's Meadows, 
containing a spring called Percy's Well, are in 
the neighbourhood. 

The version of the ballad originally edited by 
Bishop Percy, is here given. It is alluded to by 
Sir Walter Scott, as '•' the English ballad ;" but 
there seems great reason for believing, that, as 
well as that published in the Border Minstrelsy, 
it is of Scottish origin. 1 



1 See "Oliver's Rambles in Northumberland, and on the 
Scottish Border," pp. 122, 123. 



£3H££ 



THE BATTLE OF OTTERBOURNE. 

IT fell about the Lammas tide, 
When husbands win their hay, 
The doughty Douglas bowned him to ride, 
In England to take a praye. 

The Erie of Fife, wythouten strife ; 

He bowned him ' o'er Solvvay : 
The great will ever together ride ; 

That race they may rue for aye. 

Over Ottercap hill they came in 

And down by Rodeliffe crag, 
Upon green Leyton they lighted down 

Styrande many a stag ; 2 

And boldly brent Northumberland 

And haried many a town, 
They did our English men great wrong 

To battle that were not bown. 

1 Hied him. 

2 " In Northumberland, as I heare say, be no Forests, ex- 
cept Chivet Hills ; where is much Brushewood, and some 
Okke; Grownde overgrowne with Linge, and some with 
Mosse. I have harde say that Chivet Hills stretchethe xx 
miles. Theare is greate plente of Redde Dere, and Roo 
Bukkes." — Leland's Itinerary, vol. vii. 

" Northumberlande — a savage and a wylde countrye, full 
of desartis and mountaignes, and a ryght poor countrey of 
everye tbynge, saving of beastis." — Froissart, vol. i. ch. 17. 



160 THE BATTLE OF 

Then spake a berne 1 upon the bent, 2 

Of comfort that was not cold, 
And said, we have brent Northumberland 

We have all wealth in hold — 

Now we have haryed all Bamborougshire 
All the wealth in the world have we ; 

I rede we ride to New Castle, 
So still and stalwartly. 

Upon the morrow when it was day, 
The standards shone full bright; 

To the New Castle they took their way 
And thither they came full right. 

Sir Henry Percy lay at the New Castle 

I tell you withouten dread ; 
He had been a march man all his days, 

And kept Berwick upon Tweed. 

To the New Castle when they came 
The Scots they cried on hyght 

" Sir Harry Percy, an thou be'est within 
Come to the field and fight. 

" For we have brent Northumberland 

Thy heritage good and right, 
And syne my lodging I have take, — 

With my brand dubbed many a knight." 



A man. 2 The fields. 



OTTERBOURNE. 161 

Sir Harry Percy came to the walls 

The Scottish host to see ; 
" An thou hast brent Northumberland 

Full sore it rewyth me. 

" If thou hast haryed all Bamboroughshire 

Thou hast done me great envye ; 
For the trespasse thou hast me done, 

The one of us shall dye." 

" Where shall I bide thee," said the Douglas, 
" Or where wilt thou come to me ?" 

" At Otterbourne in the high way 
There may'st thou well lodged be. 

" The roe full reckless there she runs 

To make the game and glee — 
The partrich and the fesaunt both 

Among the holtes 1 on hee — 

" There may'st thou have thy wealth at will, 

Well lodged there mayst be — 
It shall not be long or I come thee till/* 

Said sir Harry Percy. 

" There shall I bide thee/' said the Douglas, 

" By the faith of my bodye," 
" Thither shall I come," said Sir Harry Percy, 

" My troth I plight to thee." 



1 Woods. 



162 THE BATTLE OF 

A pipe of wine he gave them over the walls 

For sooth, as I you saye ; 
There he made the Douglas drink 

And all his host that daye. 

The Douglas turned him homeward again 

For sooth, withouten naye, 
He took his lodging at Otterbourne 

Upon a Wedyns-day. 

And there he pyght 1 his standard down, 

His gettyng 2 more and lesse, 
And syne he warned his men to go 

To choose their geldings gresse. 

A Scottish knight hoved on the bent, 

A watch I dare well say ; 
So was he ware of the noble Percy 

In the dawnynge of the daye. 

He pricked to his pavyleon door 

As fast as he might run, 
" Awaken, Douglas," cried the knight, 

" For hys love, that sittes on trone." 



" Awaken Douglas," cried the knight, 
" For thou mayest waken with wynne ; 

Yonder have I spied the proud Percy 
And seven standards with hym." 



1 Pitched. 2 Plunder, booty. 

3 Thou may'st waken with advantage. 



.3 



OTTERBOURNE. 163 

" Nay by my troth," the Douglas said — 

" It is but a feigned tale ; 
He durst not look on my broad banner, 

For all Englonde so hayle. 

" Was I not yesterday at the New Castle 

That stands so fayre on Tyne ? 
For all the men the Percy had, 

He could not garre me ones to dyne.'' 1 

He stepped out at his pavyleon door 

To look an it were lesse ; 
" Arraye you, lordynges ! one and all, 

For here beginnes no peace. 

" Erie of Mentaye ! thou art my erne 

The forward I give to thee ; 
The Erie of Huntley cawte 2 and kene, 

He shall with thee be. 

" The lord of Buchan in armure bright 

On the other hand he shall be ; 
Lord Johnstone, and Lord Maxwell, 

They two shall be with me. 



1 The meaning is obscure ; is it " He could not once pre- 
vent me from dining?" Perhaps the true reading is 

" He could not garre me ones to tyne." 
The Scottish ballad has 

" For Percy had not men yestreen 
To dyght my men and me." 

2 Cautious, prudent. 



] 64 THE BATTLE OF 

" Swinton fayre fylde 1 upon your pryde 

To battle make you bowne 
Syr Davy Scott, Syr Walter Steward, 

Sir John of Agurstone." 



A FYTTE. 

The Percy came before his host, 
Which was ever a gentle knight, 

Upon the Douglas loud 'gan he crye, 
" I will hold that I have hyght: 2 

" For thou hast brent Northumberland 

And done me grete envye ; 
For this trespasse thou hast me done, 

The one of us shall die." 

The Douglas answered him again 

With great words up on hee, 
And said, " I have twenty against thy one 

Behold, and thou may'st see." 

With that the Percy was grieved sore 

For sothe, as I you say 
He lighted down upon his foot, 

And shot his horse clean away. 3 



1 Field. 

2 " I will hold to what I have promised " Percy. 

3 Let his horse run loose. 



OTTERBOURNE. 165 

Every man saw that he did so 

That royal was ever in rout ; 
Every man shot his horse him fro, 

And lyght him, round about. 

Thus Sir Harry Percy took the field, 

For sothe, as I you say : 
Jesu Christ in hevyn on hyght 

Did help him well that day. 

But nine thousand, there was no mo ; 

The chronicle wyll not layn ; * 
Forty thousand Scots and foure 

That day fought them agayn. 

But when the battle began to join 

In hast there came a knight; 
Then letters fay re forth hath he ta'en 

And thus he said, full ryght. 

*' My Lord, your father he greets you well, 

With many a noble knight ; 
He desyres you to byde, 

That he may see this fight. 

"The Baron of Graystoke's come out of the west, 

With him a noble companye ; 
All they lodge at your father's this night 

And the Battel fain would they see." 



Lie. 



166 THE BATTLE OE 

" For Jesu's love," said Sir Harry Percy, 

" That died for you and me, 
Wend to my Lorde my Father agayne, 

And say thou saw me not with ye. 

" My troth is plyght to yon Scottish knight 

It nedes me not to layn, 
That I should byde him upon this bent, 

And I have his troth agayne. 

" And if that I wend off this ground, 

For sooth, unfoughten awaye, 
He would call me but a coward knyghte 

In his land another daye. 

" Yet had I lever to be rynde 1 and rent, 

By Mary that mykle may ! 
Than ever my manhood should be reproved 

With a Scot, another daye. 

" Wherefore shoot, Archers, for my sake 

And let sharp arrowes flee — 
Minstrels, play up for your waryson 2 

And well quit it shall be. 

" Every man think on his true love — 
And mark him to the Trinitye ; 

For to God I make mine avowe, 
This day will I not flee." 



Reward. 



OTTERBOURNE. K>7 

The bloody Heart in the Douglas' arms, 

His standard stood on high ; 
That every man might full well know ; 

Beside stood starres three ; 

The white Lyon on the English part, 

Forsooth as I you sayn ; 
The Lucetts and the Crescents both ; 

The Scotts fought them agayne. 

Upon Saint Andrew loud 'gan they cry, 

And thrice they shot on hight, 
And syne marked them on our English men, 

As I have tolde you right. 

Saynt George the bright, Our Ladye's knight 

To name they were full fayne — 
Our English men they cried on hight 

And thrice they shot again. 

With that sharp arrowes began to flee, 

I tell you in certayn ; 
Men of arms began to joyn ; 

Many a doughty man was there slain. 

The Percy and the Douglas met ; 

That other of other was fayne 
They schapped 1 together, whyle that they swette 

With swords of fine Coleyn. 2 

1 Fought. 2 Swords of Cologne steel. 



168 THE BATTLE OF 

Till the blood from their bassonetts ran 

As the rock doth in the rayn. 
" Yield thee to me," said the Douglas, 

" Or else thou shalt be slayne. 

" For I see, by thy bright bassonett, 

Thou art some man of might; 
And so I do by thy burnished brand, 

Thou art an earl, or else a knight." 

" By my good faith," said the noble Percy, 
" Now hast thou rede x fall ryght, 

Yet will I never yield me to thee, 
While I may stand and fyght." 

They swapped together, whyle that they swette 

With swerde's sharp and long ; 
Each on other so fast they beat 

Till their helms came in pieces down. 

The Percy was a man of strength, 

I tell you in this stound ; 2 
He smote the Douglas at the swerdes length 

That he fell to the ground. 

The swerde was sharp, and sore can byte 

I tell you in certayn ; 
To the harte he could him smyte — 

Thus was the Douglas slayn. 



Supposed, imagined. 2 Time. 



OTTERBOURNE. 169 

The standards stood still on each side, 

With many a grievous groan ; 
There they fought the day, and all the night, 

And many a doughty man was slone. 

There was no freke, 1 that there wolde fly — 

But stiff in stowre can stand, 
Each one hewing on other while they might dry 2 

With many a balefull brand. 

There was slayn upon the Scotte's side 

For sooth and certainlye, 
Syr James a Douglas there was slayn 

That day that he could dye. 

The Erie of Mentaye there was slayn 
Grysely groned upon the ground ; 

Sir Davy Scott, Sir Walter Steward, 
Sir John of Agurstone. 

Sir Charles Murray in that place 

That never a foot would fly ; 
Sir Hugh Maxwell, a Lord he was, 

With the Douglas did he dye. 

There was slayn upon the Scotte's syde, 

Forsoth as I you say, 
Of four and forty thousand Scottes 

Went but eighteen away. 

1 Man. 2 Endure, suffer. 

P 



170 THE BATTLE OF 

There was slayn upon the Ynglysshe syde 

For soth and certaynlye — 
A gentyl knyght, Sir John Fitzhugh, 

Yt was the more pitye. 

Syr James Harbottle there was slayn, 
For him their hartes were sore, 

The gentle Lovel there was slayn, 
That the Percy's standard bore. 

There was slayn upon the Ynglysshe perte 1 

For sooth as I you saye ; 
Of nine thousand Ynglysshe men 

Fyve hundred came awaye. 

The other were slayn in the feelde 
Christ keep their souls from woe, 

Seeying ther was so fewe fryndes 
Agaynst so many a foe. 

Then on the morn they made them biers 

Of byrche and hazell grey ; 
Many a widowe wyth weepyng teeres 

Their makes 2 they fette away. 

Thys fraye began at Otterburne 
Between the nyght and the daye ; 

There the Douglas lost his lyfe, 
And the Percy was led awaye. 

1 Part. 2 Mates, husbands. 



OTTERBOURNE. 171 

Then was there a Scottyshe prisoner tayne, 
Syr Hugh Montgomery was his name, 

For soth as I you saye, 

He borowed the Percy home agayn. 

Now let us all for the Percy pray 

To Jesu most of myght, 
To bryng hys soule to the blysse of heven, — 

For he was a gentyll knight. 





CHEVY CHASE. 

HE various ballads to which the 
title of the " Huntynge of Che- 
viat" has been given, are all 
apparently distorted accounts 
of the battle of Otterbourne. 
The oldest version, first pub- 
lished in 1719, by Heame, in an edition of 
Gulielmus Neubridgiensis, was the composition 
of Richard Sheale in 1558; and this was the one 
admired by Sir Philip Sydney. " I never heard/' 
he says in his Defence of Poetry, " the olde song 
of Percie and Douglas, that I found not my heart 
moved more than with a trumpet ; and yet it is 
sung but by some blind crowder, with no rougher 
voice than rude style ; which, being so evill ap- 
parelled in the dust and cobweb of that uncivill 
age, what would it work trimmed in the gorgeous 
eloquence of Pindare F" 

The author of the version here given is un- 
known. It is probably not older than the reign 
of Charles II. 



m$^^&^^%ktm$&g&gk$& 



CHEVY CHASE. 

GOD prosper long our noble King, 
Our lives and safetyes all ; 
A woefull hunting once there did 
In Chevy Chace befall. 

To drive the deere with hound and horn 

Erie Percy took his way, 
The child may rue that is unborne 

The hunting of that day. 

The stout Erie of Northumberland, 

A vow to God did make, 
His pleasure in the Scottish woods 

Three summer days to take. 

The cheefest harts in Chevy-chase 

To kill and beare away, 
These tydings to Erie Douglas came 

In Scotland where he lay, 

Who sent Erie Percy present word 

He wold prevent his sport. 
The English Erie, not fearing that, 

Did to the woods resort 



174 CHEVY CHASE. 

With fifteen hundred bow men bold 

All chosen men of might, 
Who knew full well in time of neede 

To ayme their shafts arright. 

The gallant greyhounds swiftly ran 

To chase the fallow deere, 
On munday they began to hunt 

Ere day-light did appeare. 

And long before high noone they had 
An hundred fat buckes slain, 

Then having dined, the drovyers went 
To rouze the deare againe. 

The bow-men mustered on the hills, 

Well able to endure 
Theire backs, in sooth, with speciall care, 

That day were guarded sure. 

The hounds ran swiftly through the woods 

The nimble deere to take, 
That with their cryes the hills and dales 

An echo shrill did make. 

Lord Percy to the quarry went 
To view the slaughtered deere, 

Quoth he, Erie Douglas promised 
This day to meet me heere. 



CHEVY CHASE. 175 

But if I thought he wold not come, 

No longer wold I stay. 
With that, a brave younge gentleman 

Thus to the Erie did say, 

Loe, yonder doth Erie Douglas come, 

His men in armour bright, 
Full twenty hundred Scottish speres 

All marching in our sight. 

All men of pleasant Tivydale 
Fast by the river Tweede, 

cease your sports, Erie Percy said, 
And take your bowes with speed e. 

And now with me, my countrymen 

Your courage forth advance, 
For there was never champion yett 

In Scotland or in France, 

That ever did on horsebacke come, 
But if my hap it were, 

1 durst encounter man for man 
With him to break a spere. 

Erie Douglas on his milke-white steede 

Most like a baron bold, 
Rode formost of his company, 

Whose armour shone like gold. - 



176 CHEVY CHASE. 

Show me, sayd hee, whose men you bee, 

That hunt soe boldly heere, 
That, without my consent, doe chase 

And kill my fallow-deere. 

The first man that did answer make 

Was noble Percy hee, 
Who sayd, wee list not to declare 

Nor show whose men wee bee. 

Yet wee will spend our deerest blood 

Thy cheefest harts to slay. 
Then Douglas swore a solempne oathe 

And thus in rage did say, 

Ere thus I will out-braved bee, 

One of us two shall dye, 
I know thee well an Erie thou art, 

Lord Percy, soe am I. 

But trust me, Percy, pittye it were 

And great offence to kill 
Any of these our guiltlesse men 

For they have done no ill. 

Let thou and I the battell trye, 

And set our men aside, 
Accurst bee he, Erie Percy sayd, 

By whome this is denyed. 



CHEVY CHASE. 177 

Then stept a gallant squier forth, 

Witherington was his name, 
Who said I would not have it told 

To Henry our king for shame 

That ere my captaine fought on foote, 

And I stood looking on — 
You bee two Erles, sayd Witherington, 

And I a squier alone : 

He doe the best that doe I may 

While I have power to stand, 
While I have power to weeld my sword 

He fight with hart and hand. 

Our English archers bent their bowes, 

Their harts were good and trew, 
Att the first flight of arrowes sent, 

Full four-score Scots they slew. 

Yet bides Earl Douglas on the bent, 

As chieftain stout and good, 
As valiant captain, all unmov'd 

The shock he firmly stood. 

His host he parted had in three 

As leader ware and try'd, 
And soon his spearmen on their foes 

Bare down on every side. 



178 CHEVY CHASE. 

Throughout the English archery 
They dealt full many a wound, 

But still our valiant Englishmen 
All firmly kept their ground. 

And throwing strait their bows away, 
They grasp'd their swords so bright, 

And now sharp blows, a heavy shower, 
On shields and helmets light. 

They closed full fast on everye side, 
Noe slacknes there was found, 

And many a gallant gentleman 
Lay gasping on the ground. 

O Christ ! it was a griefe to see 

And likewise ibr to heare, 
The cries of men lying in their gore, 

And scattered here and there. 

At last these two stout Erles did meet 
Like captaines of great might, 

Like lyons wood, 1 they layd on lode 8 
And made a cruell fight: 

They fought until they both did sweat, 
With swords of tempered Steele, 

Until the blood like drops of rain 
They trickling downe did feele. 

1 Mad. 2 Struck their blows. 



CHEVY CHASE. 179 

Yeeld thee, Lord Percy, Douglas sayd, 

In faith I will thee bringe, 
Where thou shalt high advanced bee, 

By James our Scottish king. 

Thy ransome I will freely give, 

And this report of thee, 
Thou art the most couragious knight 

That ever I did see. 

Noe, Douglas, quoth Erie Percy then, 

Thy proffer I doe scorne, 
I will not yeelde to any Scott, 

That ever yett was borne. 

With that there came an arrow keene 

Out of an English bow, 
Which struck Erie Douglas to the heart 

A deepe and deadly blow. 

Who never spake more words than these 

Fight on my merry men all, 
For why, my life is at an end ; 

Lord Percy sees my fall. 

Then leaving liffe, Erie Percy tooke 

The dead man by the hand, 
And said, Erie Douglas for thy life, 

Wold I have lost my hand. 



180 CHEVY CHASE. 

O Christ, my verry hart doth bleed 

With sorrow for thy sake, 
For sure a more redoubted knight 

Mischance cold never take. 

A knight amongst the Scotts there was 
Which saw Erie Douglas dye, 

Who streight in wrath did vow revenge 
Upon the Lord Percye. 

Sir Hugh Mountgomery was he call'd, 
Who with a spere most bright, 

Well mounted on a gallant steed 
Ran fiercely through the fight, 

And past the English archers all 

Without all dread or feare, 
And through Erie Percyes body then 

He thrust his hatefull spere. 

With such a vehement force and might 

He did his body gore, 
The staff ran through the other side 

A large cloth yard and more. 

So thus did both these nobles dye, 
Whose courage none could staine, 

An English archer then perceiv'd 
The noble Erie was slaine, 



CHEVY CHASE. 181 

He had a bow bent in his hand 

Made of a trusty tree, 
An arrow of a cloth-yard long 

Up to the head drew hee. 

Against Sir Hugh Mountgomerye 

So right the shaft he sett, 
The grey goose-winge that was thereon 

In his hart's blood was wett. 

This fight did last from breake of day 

Till setting of the sun, 
For when they rung the evening bell 

The battel scarce was done. 

With stout Erie Percy there was slaine 

Sir John of Egerton, 
Sir Robert RatclifF, and Sir John, 

Sir James that bold barron, 

And with Sir George and stout Sir James, 

Both knights of good account, 
Good Sir Ralph Raby there was slaine, 

Whose prowesse did surmount. 

For Witherington needs must I wayle, 

As one in doleful dumpes, 
For when his legs were smitten off, 

He fought upon his stumpes. 



182 CHEVY CHASE. 

And with Erie Douglas there was slaine, 

Sir Hugh Mountgomerye, 
Sir Charles Murray, that from the feeld 

One foote wold never flee. 

Sir Charles Murray, of Ratcliffe, too, 

His sister's son was hee, 
Sir David Lamb, so well esteemed, 

Yet saved cold not bee. 

And the Lord Maxwell in like case 

Did with Erie Douglas dye, 
Of twenty hundred Scottish speres 

Scarce fifty-five did flye. 

Of fifteen hundred Englishmen 

Went home but fifty-three, 
The rest were slaine in Chevy-Chase, 

Under the greene woode tree. 

Next day did many widowes come 

Their husbands to bewayle, 
They washt their wounds in brinish teares, 

But all wold not prevayle. 

Theyr bodyes* bathed in purple gore, 

They bare with them away, 
They kist them dead a thousand times, 

Ere they were cladd in clay. 



CHEVY CHASE. 183 

The newes was brought to Eddenborrow 
Where Scotland's king did raigne, 

That brave Erie Douglas suddenlye 
Was with an arrow slaine. 

heavy newes, King James did say 
Scottland may witnesse bee, 

1 have not any Captaine more 
Of such account as hee. 

Like tydings to King Henry came 

Within as short a space, 
That Percy of Northumberland, 

Was slaine in Chevy-Chase. 

Now God be with him said our King, 

Sith it will noe better bee, 
I trust I have, within my realme, 

Five hundred as good as hee. 

Yett shall not Scotts nor Scottland say, 

But I will vengeance take, 
I'll be revenged on them all 

For brave Erie Percy es sake. 

This vow full well the king perform'd 
After, at Humbledowne, 1 



1 The battle of Homildon Hill (1402). The field of battle 
is near Wooler, Northumberland : — 
" On Holy-rood day, the gallant Hotspur there, 
Young Harry Percy, and brave Archibald, 



184 CHEVY CHASE. 

In one day fifty knights were slayne, 
With Lords of great renowne. 

And of the rest of small account, 

Did many thousands dye, 
Thus endeth the hunting of Chevy-Chase, 

Made by the Erie Percy. 

God save our king, and bless this land 
With plentye, joy, and peace, 

And grant henceforth, that foule debate 
Twixt noblemen may cease. 



That ever valiant and approved Scot, 

At Holmedon met 

K. Hen. Here is a dear and true industrious friend, 
Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his horse, 
Stained with the variation of each soil 
Betwixt that Holmedon and this seat of ours; 
And he hath brought us smooth and welcome news, 
The Earl of Douglas is discomfited ; 
Ten thousand bold Scots, two and twenty knights, 
Balk'd in their own blood, did Sir Walter see 
On Holmedon's plains ; of prisoners, Hotspur took 
Mordake, the Earl of Fife, and eldest son 
To beaten Douglas : and the Earls of Athole, 
Of Murray, Angus, and Menteith. 
And is not this an honourable spoil ? 
A gallant prize ? — ha, cousin, — is it not ?" 

K. Henry IV. Part i. Act i. Sc. 1. 




THOMAS THE RHYMER. 




N the valuable essay prefixed 
by Price to his edition of 
Warton's History of English 
Poetry, he states his belief 
that Thomas the Rhymer is 
the representative, or rather, 
has taken the place of some older personage of 
a character similarly remarkable. Although it 
is impossible to obtain any thing like direct 
proof, that such a transmission of mysterious 
attributes has taken place, the conjecture of Price 
may nevertheless be supported by arguments, 
which, if they do not amount to positive demon- 
stration, are at least entitled to very consider- 
able weight. 

The Eildon Hills form the centre of a tract of 
country remarkable as one of the last retreats of 
the ancient system of the Druids, and, as in the 
Q 



186 THOMAS THE RHYMER. 

case of the " Green Isle of Avalon," the shadowy- 
regions of "fair Elfland," seem there also to 
have ta*ken the place of the Paradise Isle of the 
pagan aera. The description of Avalon, in the 
Romance of Guillaume au court nez, 1 is almost 
identical with that of the Palace of Odin in the 
Grimnis-mal ; and the "castell" of the Queen 
of Faerie, as it is described in the older Romance 
of True Thomas, is precisely similar. It was 
surrounded with a pleasant garden, 

" Where was fruyte in grete plente ; — 
Peyres and apless ther were rype, 

The date and the damese, 
The fygge and alse fylbert tre ; 
The nyghtyngale bredyng yu her neste, 

The papigaye about gan flee, 
The throstylcocke sange wald hafe no rest." 

And on the summit of a hill, overlooking the 
roads both to heaven and hell, stood the castle 
itself, 

" Of town and tower it beareth the belle, 
In middell erth is none like thertill." 

In the great hall were "harp and fidele," and 
" al maner of minstralsye." Forty great harts 
were lying dead on the floor, and the stag hounds 
were stretched along on the rushes by their side; 

1 See an extract in the Appendix to Le Roux de Lincy, '■ 
Livye des Legendes. 



THOMAS THE RHYMER. 187 

whilst in another part knights and ladies were 

dancing — 

" by two and thre, 
All that leve long daye." 

A deep hollow between two of the peaks of the 
Eildons is called the " Hexel Cleugh," 1 or the 
Witches Glen ; and the hills themselves are situ- 
ated in the ancient " Sylva Caledonia/' the 
abode of " Merlin Wyllt," whose prophecies 
were as celebrated as those of Thomas of Ercil- 
doune himself. Indeed, the entire legend of 
The Rhymer is only a chivalric version of some 
far more ancient northern myth ; and similar 
narratives might easily be produced from sources 
of unquestionably pagan character. 2 The chiv- 
alric ideas which contributed to form the me- 
dieval fairy land, are seen very strikingly in the 
legend of the great hall of the Rhymer, filled 

1 " Haxa," (old German) a prophetess. 

2 An incident in the life of Hadding of Denmark, narrated 
by Saxo Grammaticus, is almost identical. •' One winter 
evening, as he was supping with his bride, a woman like 
a culler of simples, was seen to raise her head from tbe 
ground, close by the hearth, and inquired whether the king 
did not wish to know where such herbs grew at that season 
of the year. On his replying in the affirmative, she envel- 
oped him in his own mantle, and sank with him into tbe 
ground. They first entered a dark path worn out by the 
feet of many travellers, and here they perceived some great 



188 THOMAS THE RHYMER. 

with horses and men in armour, which are all to 
awake at some future battle. 1 

Thomas the Rhymer was certainly dead in 
1300, for in the year 1299 we find his son con- 
veying- to the " convent of the Trinity of Soltra, 
the tenement which he possessed by inheritance 
in Ercildoune, with all claim which he, or his 
predecessors could pretend therto." 2 He is 
popularly said to have followed a hart and 
hind to the forest which surrounded his tower, 
and never afterwards to have been " seen on 
niolde." Another tradition shows his grave 
near Inverness ; but this likewise is one of the 
green mounds peculiarly the property of the 
fairies. There are yet some scanty remains of 
his tower at Earlston, on the Leader — the mo- 
dern name of Ercildoune. The " Eildon Tree," 
where 



ones of the earth, some in purple and gold, whose doom 
appeared to consist in their indefinite windings. Passing 
them, they entered a region of some fertility, whence the 
woman had derived her simples. Farther still, they reached 
a river of precipitate course and black waters, which rolled 
along the weapons of many heroes, and over which, a 
bridge conducted them to a different region." — Dunham, 
from Saxo Grammaticus. 

1 In Orkney the fairies are often seen clad in complete 
armour. — Brand's Orkney, p. 65. 

2 Sir Walter Scott. 



THOMAS THE RHYMER. 189 

" Thomas was ware of a lady fair, 
Come riding down" 

who was no other than the Queen of Fairy, has 
long since vanished. A large stone, however, 
still marks the place where it stood : 

" And there the ground is fairy ground, 
And the dark green ring is on the lea." 

A neighbouring rivulet is called w The Bogle 
Burn," and above the whole country rises the 
"triple height" of the mysterious hills, in whose 
green recesses True Thomas vanished with his 
beautiful guide, 

" And to an elf queen him betook, 
By dale and eke by down." 



(M)(MXM)®®®S)(M)(M)(M)(M) 



THOMAS THE RHYMER. 

TRUE Thomas lay on Huntlie bank 
A ferlie l he spied wi' his ee, 
And, there he saw a ladye bright, 

Come riding down by the Eildon Tree. 

Her shirt was o' the grass-green silk, 
Her mantle o' the velvet fyne, 

At ilka tett 2 of her horse's mane, 
Hung fifty siller bells and nine. 

True Thomas he pull'd off his cap, 
And louted low down to his knee : 

" All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven, 
For thy peer on earth I never did see." 

" O no, O no, Thomas/' she said, 
" That name does not belang to me, 

I am but the Queen of fair Elfland, 
That am hither come to visit thee. 

" Harp and carp, Thomas," she said : 
" Harp and carp along wi' me, 

And if ye dare to kiss my lips, 
Sure of your bodie I will be." 

1 Wonder, marvellous thing. 2 Lock. 



THOMAS THE RHYMER. 191 

" Betide me weal, betide me woe, 

That weird shall never daunton 1 me," 

Syne he has kissed her rosy lips, 
All underneath the Eildon Tree. 

f* Now, ye maun go vvi' me," she said, 
" True Thomas, ye maun go wi' me, 

And ye maun serve me seven years, 

Thro' weal or woe as may chance to be." 

She mounted on her milk-white steed, 
She's ta'en true Thomas up behind, 

And aye, whene'er her bridle rung, 
The steed flew swifter than the wind. 2 



1 That destiny shall never frighten me. 

2 In the Cambridge MS. of this ballad, Thomas and the 
Queen of Fairy enter Elfland under an 

" Eldryn Birke 

Underneth the grenewood tree j" 
So in " Sir Orfeo," the lady Heurodis is carried away by 
the fairies whilst she is asleep u under an ympe tree ;" and 
in the Morte d' Arthur, Sir Launcelot is carried away by 
four queens, by enchantment, whilst asleep under an apple 
tree. •* Even about the noon, ther came by, four quenes of 
great estate, and for the heate of the sun should not nigh 
them, ther rode foure knights about them and bare a canopee 
of grene silke on foure spears, betweene them and the sun. 
And the queenes rode on four white mules ; then were they 
ware of a sleeping knight that lay all armed under an apple 
tree ; and so they cast an enchantment upon him, and 
brought him unto the Castle Chariot." — Morte d* Arthur, 
bk. i. ch. ciii. 



192 THOMAS THE RHYMER. 

O they rade on, and farther on, 

The steed gaed swifter than the wind, 

Until they reach'd a desert wide, 
And living land was left behind. 

" Light down, light down, now, true Thomas, 
And lean your head upon my knee, 

Abide and rest a little space, 

And I will shew you ferlies three. 

" O see ye not yon narrow road, 

So thick beset with thorns and briers ? 

That is the path of righteousness, 
Though after it but few enquires. 

" And see ye not that braid braid road, 

That lies across that lily leven ? 
That is the path of wickedness, 

Though some call it the road to heaven. 

" And see ye not that bonny road, 
That winds about the fernie brae? 

That is the road to fair Elfland, 

Where thou and I this night maun gae. 

" But, Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue, 

Whatever ye may hear or see, 
For if you speak word in Elflyn land, 

Ye'll ne'er get back to your ain countrie." 



THOMAS THE RHYMER. 193 

O they rade on, and farther on, 

And they waded through rivers aboon the knee, 
And they saw neither sun nor moon, 

But they heard the roaring of the sea. 

It was mirk mirk night, and there was nae stern 
light, 

And they waded through red blude to the knee, 
For a' the blude that's shed on earth 

Rins through the springs o* that countrie. 1 



1 The " olde gentil Bretons," to this day entertain a 
belief, that a very similar journey with that described in the 
ballad, is to be undergone by the disembodied spirit before 
it reaches its place of happiness or punishment. (Barzaz- 
Breiz, Cte. dela Villemarque.) The soul is supposed to pass 
the valley of the waters of anguish, and the stream of bones; 
deep hollows filled with blood surround it on all sides ; and 
finally the sea is to be crossed, at the edge of which the 
mouth of the infernal regions open on the one hand, and the 
isle of Paradise rises on the other. This abode of happy 
spirits is planted with apple trees, and its sward is covered 
with flowers of most exquisite hues and perfume ; in the 
centre is a fountain, at which the spirits drink to receive a 
new existence. 

The idea of passing through water constantly occurs; 
see the voyage of King Gorm of Denmark (Saxo Gram- 
maticus, Lib. viii.) There is a very remarkable passage in 
the Morte d'Arthur, concerning an enchanted castle and 
island, which is very probably the chivalric version of the 
Breton superstition given above. " And so he rode forth, 
and within three dayes he came by a crosse, and thereon 
was letters of gold written, that said, It is not for a knight 



194 THOMAS THE RHYMER. 

Syne they came on to a garden green, 
And she pu'd an apple frae a tree — 

" Take this for thy wages, true Thomas, 

It will give thee the tongue that can never lie. 

" My tongue is mine ain," true Thomas said, 
" A gudely gift ye wast gie to me : 

I neither dought to buy nor sell, 
At fair or tryst where I may be. 

" I dought neither speek to prince or peer, 
Nor ask of grace from fair ladye." 

" Now hold thy peace !" the lady said, 
" For as I say, so must it be." — 



alone to ride towards this castle. Then sawe he an olde 
gentleman coming toward him, that said, "Balin le savage, 
thou passest thy hounds this way, therefore turne againe 
and it will availe thee." And he vanished awaye anon; 
and so he hearde an horn hlow, as it had beene the death of 
a beest ; that blast, said Balin, is blowen for me, for I am 
the prise, and yet am I not dead ; And therwith he saw an 
hundred ladyes, and many knights that welcomed him with 
fair semblant, and made him passing good cheer unto his 
sight, and led him into the Castell : and there was daunsing, 
and ministralsy, and all maner of joy." There is an en- 
chanted Island adjoining, in which Sir Balin fights with a 
mysterious knight, and is killed. Afterwards, "Merlin 
let make a bridge of iron and steel into that iland, and it 
was but half a foote broade, and ther shall never man passe 
that bridge, nor have hardiness to go over, but if he were a 



THOMAS THE RHYMER. 195 

He has gotten a coat of the even cloth, 
And a pair of shoes of velvet green, 

And till seven years were gane and past, 
True Thomas on earth was never seen. 



passing good man, and a good knight, without treachery or 
villainy." — Morte d'Artkur, bk. i. ch. xli. — xliii. 

Compare the description of the castle in which Balin is 
entertained, with that of the Queen of Fairy mentioned in 
the introduction to the ballad. 




THE SANG 

OF THE OUTLAW 

MURRAY. 



^g£3^|| HE scene of the following ballad 
3S^K> * s traditionally said to have 
been the castle of Newark, 
upon Yarrow. There the out- 
law is said to have lived, 
wasting the country for many 
miles round ; until he was at length slain by 
Buccleuch, at a little mount, covered with fir 
trees, adjoining the castle. In the hollow below 
this mount, which is called " Slain-mens-lee," a 
number of human bones have recently been 
found. 

Another tradition points out the place of his 
death at a spot farther from the castle, and ac- 
cording to this, the fatal arrow is said to have 
been shot by Scott of Haining, from the ruins 
of a cottage on the opposite side of Yarrow. 



SANG OF THE OUTLAW MURRAY. 197 

But Sir Walter Scott was assured, that the 
insignia mentioned in the ballad — 

" Twa unicorns sae braw to see, 
And the picture of a knight and a lady bright 
With the grene holline abune their bree. — " 

were anciently existing in the old Tower of 
Hanging-shaw, the seat of the family of Murray 
of Philiphaugh ; this tower has long been in 
ruins ; it stood in a lonely spot on the banks of 
the Yarrow. "And," observes Sir Walter, "when 
the mountains around it were covered with the 
wild copse which constituted a Scottish forest, a 
more secure stronghold for an outlawed baron 
can scarcely be imagined." 

Xo historical record of the subject of the 
ballad has been preserved; but from internal 
evidence, it must have been composed about the 
reign of James V. 



THE SANG OF THE OUTLAW 
MURRAY. 

ETTRICKE Foreste is a fair forest- 
In it grows manie a semelie trie ; 
There's hart and hynde, and dae and rae, 
And of a' wilde bestis grete plentie. 

There's a feir castelle, bigged wi' lyme and stane, 
O ! gin it stands not pleasauntlie ! 

In the fore front o' that castelle feir, 
Twa unicorns are bra' to see; 

There's the picture of a knight, and a ladye bright, 
And the grene hollin abune their brie. 1 

There an outlaw kepis five hundred men, 

He keepis a royalle companie ! 
His merryemen are a' in ae liverye clad, 

O' the Lincome grene sae gaye to see, 
He and his ladye in purple clad, 

O ! gin they lived not royallie ! 

Word is gane to our nobil King, 

In Edinburgh where that he lay, 
That there was an outlaw in Ettricke Foreste, 

Counted him nought, nor a' his courtrie gay. 

1 Brow. 



SANG OF THE OUTLAW MURRAY. 199 

" I make a vowe," then the gude King said, 
" Unto the man that deir bought me, 

Pse either be King of Ettricke Foreste, 
Or king of Scotlande that outlaw sail be !" 

Then spake the Lord hight Hamilton, 

And to the nobil King said he, 
" My sovereign prince, sum counsell take, 

Fust at your nobilis, syne at me. 

" I redd ye, send yon braw outlaw till, 
And see gif your man cum will he, 

Desyre him cum and be your man, 
And hald of you yon Forest frie. 

" Gif he refuses to do that, 

We'll conquess baith his landis and he ; 
Or else, we'll throw his castelle down, 

And make a widowe o' his gaye ladye ! " 

The king then calPd a gentleman, 

James Boyd (the Earle of Arran his brother 
was he) 
When James he cam before the King, 

He knelit befor him on his kne. 

" Welcum, James Boyd \" said our nobil King, 
" A message ye maun gang for me, 

Ye maun hye to Ettricke Foreste, 
To yon Outlaw, where bydeth he ; 



200 THE SANG OF THE 

' Ask him of whom he haldis his landis, 

Or man, wha may his master be, 

And desyre him cum, and be my man 

And hald of me yon Foreste frie. 

" To Edinburgh to cum and gang-, 

His safe warrant I sail gie, 
And gif he refuses to do that, 

We'll conquess baith his landis and he. 

" Thou mayst vow I'll cast his castell down, 
And mak a widowe o' his gaye ladye, 

I'll hang his merryemen, payr by payr, 
In ony frith where I may them see." — 

James Boyd tuck his leave o' the nobil King, 

To Ettricke Foreste feir cam he, 
Down Birkendale Brae 1 when that he cam, 

He sawe the feir Forest wi' his ee. 

Baith dae and rae, and harte and hinde, 
And of a' wilde bestis great plentie, 

He heard the blows that bauldly ring, 
And arrows whidderan hym near bi. 

1 " Birkendale Brae, now commonly called Birkendaitlu, 
is a steep descent on the south side of Minch Moor, which 
separates Tweed-dale from Ettrick forest; and from the top 
of which we have the first view of the woods of Hanging- 
shaw, the Castle of Newark, and the romantic dale of Yar- 
row." — Sir Walter Scott. 



OUTLAW MURRAY. 201 

Of that feir castell he got a sight, 

The like he neir saw wi* his ee; 
On the fore front o' that castell feir, 

Twa unicorns were gaye to see, 
The picture of a knight, and ladye bright, 

And the grene hollin abune their brie. 

Thereat he spyed five hundred men, 
Shuting with bows on Newark Lee, 

They were a' in ae livery clad 

O' the Lincome grene sae gaye to see. 

His men were a' clad in the grene, 

The knight was armed capapie, 
With a bended bow, on a milk-white steed 

And I wot they rank'd right bonnilie. 

Thereby Boyd kend he was master man, 

And served him in his ain degre. 
" God mot thee save, brave Outlaw Murray ! 

Thy ladye, and all thy chyvalrie !" 
" Marry thou's wellcum, gentleman, 

Some king's messenger thou seemis to be." — 

" The King of Scotlonde sent me here, 
And, gude Outlaw, I am sent to thee, 

I wad wot of whom ye hald your landis 
Or man, wha may thy master be ?" 



202 THE SANG OF THE 

" Thir landis are mine !" the Outlaw said, 

" I ken nae King- in Christentie, 
Frae Soudron 1 1 this Foreste wan, 

When the King nor his knightis were not to see. 

" He desyres you'l cum to Edinburgh, 
And hauld of him this Foreste fre, 

And, gif ye refuse to do this, 

He'll conquess baith thy landis and thee. 

He hath vow'd to cast thy castell down 
And mak a widowe o' thy gaye ladye : 

" He'll hang thy merryemen, payr by payr, 
In ony frith where he may them finde." — 

" Ay, by my troth !" the Outlaw said, 
" Then wauld I thinke me far behinde. 

" Ere the King my feir countrie get, 

This land that's nativest to me ! 
Mony o' his nobilis sail be cauld 

Their ladyes sail be right wearie." — 

Then spak his ladye, feir of face 
She seyd, " Without consent of me 

That an Outlaw suld come befor a King ; 
I am right rad 2 of treasonrie. 

Bid him be gude to his lordis at hame, 
For Edinburgh my lord sail nevir see." 

1 English — southern men. 2 Afraid. 



OUTLAW MURRAY. 203 

James Boyd tuik his leave o' the Outlaw kene, 

To Edinburgh boun is he, 
When James he cam befor the King, 

He knelit lowlie on his kne. 

" Wellcum, James Boyd !" seyd our nobil King, 
" What foreste is Ettricke Foreste frie ?" 

w Ettricke Foreste is the feirest foreste 
That evir man saw wi' his ee. 

" There's the dae, the rae, the hart, the hynde, 
And of a' wild bestis grete plentie, 

There's a pretty castell of lyme and stane, 
O ! gif it standis not pleasauntlie ! 

" There's in the forefront o' that castell, 

Twa unicorns, sae bra' to see ; 
There's the picture of a knight, and a layde bright, 

Wi' the grene hollin abune their brie. 

" There the Outlaw keepis five hundred men 

He keepis a royalle cumpanie ! 
His merryemen in ae livery clad, 

0' the Lincome grene sae gaye to see, 
He and his ladye in purple clad, 

O ! gin they live not royallie ! 

" He says, yon Foreste is his awin, 1 
He wan it frae the Southronie ; 



Owu. 



204 THE SANG OF THE 

Sae as he wan it, sae will he keep it, 
Contrair all kingis in Christentie." 

" Gar warn me Perthshire, and Angus baith, 
Fife up and downe, and Louthians three, 

And graith 1 my horse ;" said our nobil King, 
" For to Ettricke Forest hie will I me." 

Then word is gane the Outlaw till, 
In Ettricke Forest, where dwelleth he, 

That the King was cuming to his cuntrie 
To conquess baith his landis and he. 

" I mak a vow," the Outlaw said, 

" I mak a vow, and that trulie, 
Were there but three men to take my part, 

Yon King's cumming full deir suld be." 

Then messengers he called forth, 

And bade them hie them speedilye — 

" Ane of ye gae to Halliday, 

The Laird of the Corehead 2 is he. 

" He certain is my sister's son ; 

Bid him cum quick and succour me ! 
The King cums on for Ettricke Forest, 

And landless men we a' will be." 



1 Harness — Accoutre. {Jamieson ) 

2 At the head of Moffat Water. 



OUTLAW MURRAY. 205 

" What news ? What news?" said Halliday, 
" Man, frae thy master unto me?" 

" Not as ye wad ;' seeking your aide ; 
The King's his mortal enemie." 

" Ay, by my troth !" said Halliday, 

" Even for that it repenteth me ; 
For gif he lose feir Ettricke Foreste, 

He'll tak feir Moffatdale frae me. 

" I'll meet him wi' five hundred men, 

And surely mair, if mae may be, 
And before he gets the Foreste feir, 

We a' will die on Newark Lee ! " 

The Outlaw call'd a messenger, 

And bid him hie him speedilye, 
To Andrew Murray of Cockpool — 

" That man's a deir cousin to me : 
Desyre him cum, and make me aide, 

With a' the power that he maybe." 

" It stands me hard," Andrew Murray said, 
" Judge gif it stand na hard wi' me, 

To enter against a king wi' crown, 
And set my landis in jeopardie ! 

Yet, if I cum not on the day, 
Surely at night he sail me see." 

1 Would wish. 



206 THE SANG OF THE 

To Sir James Murray of Traquair, 
A message came right speedilye — 

" What news ? What news ?" James Murray said, 
" Man, frae thy master unto me ?" 

" What neids I tell ? for weel ye ken 

The King's his mortal enemie : 
And now he is cuming to Ettricke Foreste, 

And landless men ye a' will be." 

" And, by my trothe," James Murray said, 
" Wi that Outlaw will I live and die : 

The King has gifted my landis lang syne — 
It cannot be nae warse wi* me." 

The King was cuming thro* Caddon Ford, 1 
And full five thousand men was he, 

They saw the derke Foreste them before 
They thought it awsome for to see. 



1 A ford on the Tweed, at the mouth of the Caddon Burn, 
near Yair. The banks of the Caddon Water are famous as 
the scene of the ballad of " Katherine Janfarie," the original r 
" Young Lochinvar." 

" Its up the Couden bank, 
And down the Couden brae ; 
And aye she made the trumpet sound, 

It's a weel won play. 
O meikle was the blood was shed 

Upon the Couden brae : 
And aye she made the trumpet sound, 

It's a fair play." Motherwell, p. 229. 



OUTLAW MURRAY. 207 

Then spak the lord, hight Hamilton 

And to the nobil King said he, 
I My sovereign liege, sum council tak, 

First at your nobilis, syne at me. 

" Desyre him mete thee at Permanscore, 

And bring four in his cumpanie, 
Five Erles sail gang yoursell befor, 

Gude cause that you suld honoured be. 

" And, gif he refuses to do that, 

We'll conquess baith his landis and he, 

There sail nevir a Murray, after him 
Hald land in Ettricke Foreste free." 

Then spak the kene Laird of Buckscleuth, 
A stalworthe man, and stern was he — 

? For a King to gang an Outlaw till, 
Is beneath his state and his dignitie. 

" The man that wons yon Foreste intill 

He lives by reif 1 and felonie! 
Wherefore, brayd on, 2 my sovereign liege 

Wi' fire and sword we'll follow thee, 
Or, gif your courtrie lords fa' back, 

Our borderers sail the onset gie.'' 



1 Rapine, plunder. 

2 " Proceed with impetuosity, as when advancing to attack 
an enemy." — Jamieson. 



208 THE SANG OF THE 

Then out and spak the nobil King 

And round him cast a wilie ee - 
" Now, had thy tongue, Sir Walter Scott, 

Nor speak of reif nor felonie, 
For had every honest man his awin kye, 

A right puir clan thy name wad be \" 

The King then calPd a gentleman, 
Royal banner-bearer there was he : 

James Hoppringle of Torsonse, 1 by name, 
He cam and knelit upon his kne. 

" Wellcum, James Pringle of Torsonse ! 

A message ye maun gang for me, 
Ye maun gae to yon Outlaw Murray, 

Surely where bauldly bideth he. 

" Bid him mete me at Permanscore, 2 

And bring four in his cumpanie, 
Five erles sail cum wi' mysell, 

Gude reason I suld honour'd be, 

" And gif he refuses to do that, 

Bid him luke for nae good o' me ! 
There sail never a Murray after him, 

Have land in Ettricke Foreste free/' 

1 The Tower of Torsonse is on the banks of Gala Water. 

2 " Permanscore is a very remarkable hollow, on the top 
of a high ridge of hills, dividing the vales of Tweed and 
Yarrow, a little to the eastward of Minchmoor." — Sir Wal- 
ter Scott. 



OUTLAW MURRAY. 209 

James cam before the Outlaw kene, 
And served him in his ain degre — 

" Welcum, James Pringle of Torsonse ! 
What message frae the King to me?" 

" He bids ye meet him at Permanscore, 
And bring four in your companie; 

Five Erles sail gang himsell befor, 
Nae mair in number will he be. 

" And gif you refuse to do that 

(I freely here upgive wi* thee,) 
He'll cast yon bonny castle down, 

And make a widowe o' that gay ladye. 

" He'll loose yon bluidhound Borderers, 
Wi' fire and sword to follow thee, 

There will nevir a Murray after thysell, 
Have land in Ettricke Foreste free." 

" It stands me hard," the Outlaw said, 
" Judge gif it stands na hard wi' me, 

Wha reck not losing of mysell, 
But a' my offspring after me. 

" My merryemen's lives, my widowe's teirs — 
There lies the pang that pinches me, 

When I am straught 1 in bluidie eard, 
Yon castell will be right drearie. 

1 Stretched. 



210 THE SANG OF THE 

" Auld Halliday, young Halliday, 

Ye sail be twa to gang wi' me, 
Andrew Murray, and Sir James Murray, 

We'll be nae mae in cum panie." 

When that they cam before the King, 
They fell before him on their kne — 

" Grant mercie, mercie, nobil King ! 
E'en for his sake that dyed on tree." 

" Sicken like mercie sail ye have, 
On gallows ye sail hangit be !" — 

" Over God's forbode," quoth the Outlaw then, 
I hope your grace will bettir be : 

Else, ere you come to Edinburgh port, 
I trow thin guarded sail ye be, 

" Thir landis of Ettricke Foreste fair, 

I wan them from the enemie, 
Like as I wan them, sae will I keep them, 

Contrair a' kingis in Christentie." 

All the nobilis the King about, 
Said pitie it were to see him dee — 

" Yet grant me mercie, sovereign prince, 
Extend your favour unto me ! 

" I'll give thee the keys of my castell, 
Wi' the blessings of my gay ladye, 

Gin thou'lt make me sherirTe of this Foreste, 
And a' my offspring after me." 



OUTLAW MURRAY. 211 

" Wilt thou give me the keys of thy castell, 
Wi' the blessing of thy gaye ladye ? 

Pse make the sheriffe of Ettricke Foreste, 
Surely while upward grows the tree, 

If you be not traitour to the King, 
Forfaulted sail thou nevir be." 

'•' But, Prince, what sail cum o' my men ? 

When I gae back, traitour they'll ca' me, 
I had rather lose my life and land 

Ere my merryemen rebuked me." 

I Will your merryemen amend their lives ? 

And a* their pardons I grant thee — 
Now, name thy landis where'er they be, 

And here I Render them to thee." 

r Fair Philiphaugh is mine by right, 
And Lewinshope still mine shall be, 

Newark, Foulshiells, and Tinnies baith, 
My bow and arrow purchased me, 

I And I have native steads to me, 
The Newark Lee and Hanginshaw, 

I have mony steads in the Forest schaw 
But them by name I dinna knaw." 

The keys of the castell he gave the King, 

Wi' the blessing o' his feir ladye. 
He was made sheriffe of Ettricke Foreste, 

Surely while upward grows the tree, 



212 SANG OF THE OUTLAW MURRAY. 

And if he was na traitour to the King 
Forfaulted he suld nevir be. 

Wha ever heard, in ony times 

Sicken an Outlaw in his degre, 
Sic favour get befor a King 

As did the Outlaw Murray of the Forest free 




DOUGLAS TRAGEDY. 




MffiggVg^gQinS ballad,- observes Sir 
Walter, " is one of the few, 
to which popular tradition 
has ascribed complete local- 
ity."— 
" The farm of Blackhouse, 
in Selkirkshire, is said to have been the scene of 
this melancholy event. There are the remains 
of a very ancient tower, adjacent to the farm- 
house, in a wild and solitary glen, upon a torrent 
named Douglas burn, which joins the Yarrow, 
after passing a craggy rock, called the Douglas 



From this ancient tower, Lady Margaret is 



214 THE DOUGLAS TRAGEDY. 

said to have been carried by her lover. Seven 
large stones, erected upon the neighbouring 
heights of Blackhouse, are shewn as marking 
the spot where the seven brethren were slain; 
and the Douglas burn is averred to have been 
the stream at which the lovers stopped to drink." 
But however distinctly localized " The Douglas 
Tragedy" may be in Scotland, the scene of a 
precisely similar story is no less minutely pointed 
out in the Danish ballad of " Ribolt and Guld- 
borg." ' The Wilkina Saga, moreover, contains 
another version of the same legend ; and the 
Swedish ballad of " Fair Midel," is clearly from 
the same source. 

It is extremely difficult to pronounce with 
any degree of certainty, as to the causes of this 
similarity : but the resemblance is so very re- 
markable as to render it highly probable that the 
legend belongs to a very early period ; according 
to Jamieson, "to the first arrival of the Cimbri 
in Britain." 2 



1 Jamieson and Weber, Illustrations of Northern An- 
tiquities, p. 324. 

2 Popular Ballads and Songs, vol. ii. p. 89. 



THE DOUGLAS TRAGEDY. 

" T) ISE up, rise up, now, Lord Douglas," she 

XV says, 

" And put on your armour so bright; 
Let it never be said that a daughter of thine 

Was married to a lord under night. 

M Rise up, rise up, my seven bold sons, 
And put on your armour so bright, 

And take better care of your youngest sister, 
For your eldest's awa' the last night." 

He's mounted her on a milk-white steed, 

And himself on a dapple grey, 
With a bugelet horn hung down by his side 

And lightly they rode away. 1 

Lord William lookit o'er his left shoulder, 
To see what he could see ; 



1 In the Danish ballad, Guldborg is disguised as her 
lover's page — 

" And ye maun put on my brynie blae ; 
My gilded helmet ye shall hae ; 
My gude brand belted by your side ; 
Sae unlike a lady ye will ride." 



216 THE DOUGLAS TRAGEDY. 

And there he spy'd her seven brethren bold, 
Come riding o'er the lee. 

" Light down, light down, Lady Marg'ret," he 
" And hold my steed in your hand, 1 [said, 

Until that against your seven brethren bold, 
And your father, I make a stand." 

She held his steed in her milk-white hand, 

And never shed one tear, 
Until that she saw her seven brethren fa', 

And her father hard fighting, who loved her 
so dear. 

" O hold your hand, Lord William," she said, 
" For your strokes they are wondrous sair : 

True lovers I can get many a ane, 
But a father I can never get mair." 2 



O, she's ta'en out her handkerchief, 

It was o* the holland sae fine, 
And aye she dighted 3 her father's bloody wounds, 

That were redder than the wine. 



1 " Light down, Guldborg, my lady dear, 
And hald our steeds by the renyies here." 

Ribolt and Guldborg. 

2 " Hald, hald, my Ribolt, dearest mine, 
Now belt thy brand, for its mair nor time." 

3 wiped. 



THE DOUGLAS TRAGEDY. 217 

" O chuse, O chuse, Lady Marg'ret," he said, 
" O whether will ye gang or bide ?" 

" I'll gang, Pll gang, Lord William," she said, 
" For you have left me no other guide." 

He's lifted her on a milk-white steed, 

And himself on a dapple grey, 
With a bugelet horn hung down by his side, 

And slowly they baitli rade away. 

they rade on, and on they rade, 

And a' by the light of the moon, 
Until they came to yon wan water, 

And there they lighted down. 

They lighted down to tak a drink 

Of the spring that ran sae clear ; 
And down the stream ran his gude heart's blood, 

And sair she gan to fear. 

" Hold up, hold up, Lord William/* she says, 
" For I fear that you are slain ! " — ! 

" 'Tis naething but the shadow of my scarlet cloak, 
That shines in the water sae plain." 



1 In the Danish Ballad, a mysterious caution is given to 
Guldborg, not to name her lover during the fight : she does 
so, as in the Scottish version, and at that moment Ribolt 
receives his death wound. 

S 



218 THE DOUGLAS TRAGEDY. 

O they rade on, and on they rade, 
And a' by the light of the moon, 

Until they cam to his mother's ha' door, 
And there they lighted down. 

" Get up, get up, lady mother," he says, 

" Get up, and let me in ! — 
Get up, get up, lady mother," he says, 

" For this night my fair lady I've win. 

" O mak my bed, lady mother," he says, 

" O mak it braid and deep ! 
And lay Lady Marg'ret close at my back, 

And the sounder I shall sleep." 

Lord William was dead lang ere midnight, 

Lady Marg'ret lang ere day — 1 
And all true lovers that go thegither, 

May they have mair luck than they ! 

Lord William was buried in St. Marie's kirk, 
Lady Marg'ret in Marie's quire ; 

Out o' the lady's grave grew a bonny red rose, 
And out o' the knight's a brier. 



1 Ribolt was dead or the cock did craw ; 
Guldborg she died or the day did daw : — 

Ribolt and Guldbor*. 



THE DOUGLAS TRAGEDY. 219 

And they twa met, and they twa plat, 

And fain they would be near, 
And a' the warld might ken right weel, 

They were twa lovers dear. 

But bye and rade the Black Douglas, 

And wow but he was rough ! 
For he pull'd up the bonny brier, 

And flang'd in St. Marie's Loch. 




THE LAMENT OF THE BORDER 
WIDOW. 




E give entire Sir Walter Scott's 
Introduction to this beautiful 
poem. 

" This fragment, obtained 
from recitation in the Forest 
of Ettrick, is said to relate to 
the execution of Cockburne of Henderland, a 
Border freebooter, hanged over the gate of his 
own tower by James V., in the course of that 
memorable expedition in 1529, which was fatal 
to Johuie Armstrang, Adam Scott of Tushielaw, 
and many other marauders. The vestiges of 
the castle of Henderland are still to be traced 
upon the farm of that name, belonging to Mr. 



LAMENT OF THE BORDER WIDOW. 221 

Murray of Henderland. They are situated near 
the mouth of the river Meggat, which falls into 
the lake of St. Mary, in Selkirkshire. The ad- 
jacent country, which now hardly bears a single 
tree, is celebrated by Lesly, as, in his time, 
affording shelter to the largest stags in Scotland. 
A mountain torrent called Henderland Burn 
rushes impetuously from the hills through a 
rocky chasm, named the Dowglen, and passes 
near the site of the tower. To the recesses of 
this glen, the wife of Cockburne is said to have 
retreated during the execution of her husband ; 
and a place called the Lady's seat is still shown, 
where she is said to have striven to drown, amid 
the roar of a foaming cataract, the tumultuous 
noise, which announced the close of his existence. 
In a deserted burial place, which once surrounded 
the chapel of the castle, the monument of Cock- 
burne and his lady is still shown. It is a large 
stone broken in three parts, but some armorial 
bearings may yet be traced, and the following 
inscription is still legible, though defaced — 

HERE LYES PERYS OF COKBURNE AND 
HIS WYFE MARJORY. 

Tradition says, that Cockburne Was surprised by 
the king, while sitting at dinner. After the ex- 
ecution, James marched rapidly forward to sur- 
prise Adam Scott of Tushielaw, called the king 



222 LAMENT OF THE BORDER WIDOW. 

of the Border, and sometimes the king of the 
thieves. A path through the mountains, which 
separates the vale of Ettrick from the head of 
Yarrow, is still called the King's Road, and 
seems to have been the route which he followed. 
The remains of the tower of Tushielaw are yet 
visible, overhanging the wild banks of the Ettrick, 
and are an object of terror to the benighted pea- 
sant from an idea of their being haunted by 
spectres. From these heights, and through the 
adjacent county of Peebles, passes a wild path, 
called still the Thief's Road, from having been 
used chiefly by the marauders of the Border." 



W TtfBf Ttfttf TtfMT "WW "WW "WW "WW "WW!. 



THE LAMENT OF THE BORDER 
WIDOW. 

MY love he built me a bonny bower, 
And clad it a' wi* lilye flour, 
A brawer bovver ye ne'er did see, 
Than my true love he built for me. 

There came a man, by middle day 
He spied his sport, and went away ; 
And brought the King that very night, 
Who brake my bower, and slew my knight. 

He slew my knight, to me sae dear; 
He slew my knight, and poin'd ] his gear; 
My servants all for life did flee, 
And left me in extremitie. 

I sew'd his sheet, making my mane, 
I watch'd the corpse, myself alane ; 
I watch'd his body, night and day ; 
No living creature came that way, 

I took his body on my back, 

And whiles I gaed, and whiles I sat 

I diggM a grave, and laid him in, 

And happ'd him with the sod sae green. 

" Poinded, attacked by legal distress." — Sir Walter Scott. 



224 LAMENT OF THE BORDER WIDOW. 

But think na ye my heart was sair, 
When I laid the mouP on his yellow hair. 
O think na ye my heart was wae, 
When I turn'd about, away to gae ? 

Nae living man I'll love again, 
Since that my lovely knight is slain, 
Wi' ae lock of his yellow hair, 
I'll chain my heart for evermair. 




THE 



DOWIE DENS OF YARROW. 




^HE hero of the following ballad 
is said to have been a knight 
called Scott, who resided at 
Kirkhope, or Oakwood Castle, 
and is in tradition termed the 
Baron of Oakwood. This how- 
ever, which is the popular belief, was doubted 
by Sir Walter, who conceived the ballad to refer 
to a duel between John Scott of Tushielaw, and 
his brother in law, Walter Scott, third son of 
Robert of Thirlestane. 



*jy %?•* '\j^* '^Jy *jy "jy* *jy •^jdu^* *jv* •^a^ % "ws*'* "jd** 



THE DOWIE DENS OF YARROW. 

LATE at e'en drinking the wine, 
And ere they paid the lawing, 
They set a combat them between, 
To fight it in the d awing. 

" O stay at hame, my noble lord, 

O stay at hame, my marrow ! 
My cruel brother will you betray, 

On the dowie 1 houms 2 of Yarrow." 

" O fare ye weel, my ladye gaye ! 

O fare ye weel, my Sarah ! 
For I maun gae, though I ne'er return, 

Frae the dowie banks o' Yarrow." 

She kiss'd his cheek, she kaim'd his hair, 

As oft she had done before, O, 
She belted him with his noble brand, 

And he's awav to Yarrow. 



1 Melancholy. 

" Meek loveliness is round thee spread, 

A softness still and holy ; 
The grace of forest charms decayed, 

And pastoral melancholy." 

Wordsworth — Yarrow visited. 

2 Long river meadows. 



THE DOWIE DENS OF YARROW. 227 

As he gaed up the Tennies bank, 

I wot he gaed wi' sorrow, 
Till down in a den, he spied nine armed men, 

On the dowie houms of Yarrow. 

" O come ye here to part your land 

The bonny Forest thorough ? 
Or come ye here to wield your brand, 

On the dowie houms of Yarrow ? " 

" I come not here to part my land, 

And neither to beg nor borrow, 
I come to wield my noble brand 

On the bonnie banks of Yarrow. 

" If I see all, ye* re nine to ane, 

And that's an unequal marrow, 
Yet will I fight, while lasts my brand, 

On the bonnie banks of Yarrow." 

Four has he hurt, and five has slain, 

On the bloody braes of Yarrow, 
Till that stubborn knight came him behind, 

And ran his body thorough. 

" Gae hame, gae hame, good brother John, 

And tell your sister Sarah, 
To come and lift her leafu' lord, 

He's sleepin sound on Yarrow." 



228 THE DOWIE DENS 

" Yestreen I dream'd a dolefu' dream, 

I fear there will be sorrow ! 
I dream'd I pu'd the heather green, 

Wi' my true love, on Yarrow. 

" O gentle wind, that bloweth south 

From where my love repaireth, 
Convey a kiss from his dear mouth, 

And tell me how he fareth ! 

" Deep in the glen strive armed men, 
They've wrought me dole and sorrow, 

They've slain — the comeliest knight they've slain, 
He bleeding lies on Yarrow." 

As she sped down yon high high hill, 

She gaed wi' dole and sorrow, 
And in the den spied ten slain men, 

On the dowie banks of Yarrow. 

She kissed his cheek, she kaim'd his hair, 
She searched his wounds all thorough, 

She kiss'd them, till her lips grew red, 
On the dowie houms of Yarrow r . 

" Now haud your tongue, my daughter dear, 

For a' this breeds but sorrow, 
I'll wed ye to a better lord, 

Than him ye lost on Yarrow." 



OF YARROW. 229 

O haud your tongue, my father dear ! 

Ye mind me but of sorrow, 
A fairer rose did never bloom, 

Than now lies cropp'd on Yarrow. 1 

1 " Where was it that the famous flower 
Of Yarrow vale lay bleeding? 
His bed perchance was yon smooth mound 

On which the herd is feeding ; 

And haply from this crystal pool, 

Now peaceful as the morning, 

The Water-wraith ascended thrice, 

And gave his doleful warning." 

Yarrow visited. 




JOHNIE ARMSTRANG. 




^^Vgnf^vr HE Armstrongs appear at an 
early period to have been in 
possession of great part of 
Liddesdale, where may still 
be discovered the ruins of 
towers possessed by this nu- 
merous clan. 

" The hero of the following ballad," says Sir 
Walter, "is a noted personage, both in history 
and tradition. His place of residence, now a 
roofless tower, was at the Hollows, a few miles 
from Langholm, where its ruins still serve to 
adorn a scene, which, in natural beauty, has few 
equals in Scotland. At the head of a desperate 
band of freebooters, this Armstrong is said to 
have spread the terror of his name almost as far 
as Newcastle, and to have levied black-mail, or 



JOHNIE ARMSTRANG. 231 

protection and forbearance money, for many- 
miles round. 

" James V., of whom it was long remembered 
by his grateful people that he made the ' rush- 
bush keep the cow/ about 1529 undertook an 
expedition through the Border counties, to sup- 
press the turbulent spirit of the March-men. But 
before setting out upon his journey, he took the 
precaution of imprisoning the different Border 
chieftains, who were the chief protectors of the 
marauders. The Earl of Bothwell was forfeited 
and confined in Edinburgh castle. The Lords 
of Home, and Maxwell, the Lairds of Buccleugh, 
Fairniherst, and Johnston, with many others, 
were also committed to ward. Cockburn of 
Henderland, and Adam Scott of Tushielaw, 
called the king of the Border, were publicly 
executed. The King then marched rapidly for- 
ward, at the head of a flying army often thousand 
men, through Ettrick Forest and Ewsdale. The 
evil genius of our Johnie Armstrong, or, as others 
say, the private advice of some courtiers, prompted 
him to present himself before James, at the head 
of thirty-six horse, arrayed in all the pomp of 
Border chivalry. Pitscottie uses nearly the words 
of the ballad, in describing the splendour of his 
equipment, and his high expectations of favour 
from the king. " But James, looking upon him 
sternly, said to his attendants/ What wants that 
knave that a King should have?' and ordered 



232 JOHNIE ARM STRANG. 

him and his followers to instant execution. But 
John Armstrong," continues this minute historian, 
" made great offers to the King. That he should 
sustain himself, with forty gentlemen, ever ready 
at his service, on their own cost, without wronging 
any Scottishman ; Secondly, that there was not 
a subject in England, duke, earl, or baron, but, 
within a certain day, he should bring him to his 
majesty, either quick or dead. At length, he 
seeing no hope of favour, said very proudly, ' It 
is folly to seek grace at a graceless face ; but,* 
said he, ' had I known this, I should have lived 
upon the Borders in despite of King Harry and 
you both, for I know King Harry would down- 
weigh my best horse with gold, to know that I 
were condemned to die this day/ Johnie and 
all his retinue were accordingly hanged upon 
growing trees, at a place called Carlenrig Chapel, 
about ten miles above Hawick, on the high road 
to Langholm. The country people believe, that, 
to manifest the injustice of the execution, the 
trees withered away. Armstrong and his fol- 
lowers were buried in a deserted churchyard, 
where their graves are still shown." 



^^^^m$Mk^tm$k$kg&$& 



JOHNIE ARMSTRANG. 

SUM speikis of lords, sum speikis of lairds, 
And sick lyke men of hie degrie; 
Of a gentleman I sing a sang, 

Sum tyme called Laird of Gilnockie. 

The King he wrytes a luving letter, 

With his ain hand sae tenderly, 
And he hath sent it to Johnie Armstrang, 

To cum and speik with him speedily. 

The Eliots and Armstrangs did convene, 
They were a gallant cumpanie — 

" We'll ride and meit our lawful King, 
And bring him safe to Gilnockie ! n 

" Make kinnen 1 and capon ready, then, 

And venison in great plentie, 
We'll wellcum here our royal King, 

I hope he'll dine at Gilnockie ! " 

They ran their horse on the Langholme howm, 
And brak their spears wi' mickle main ; 

The Ladies lukit frae their loft windows — 
" God bring- our men weel hame agren ! " 

1 Eabbits. 
T 



234 JOHNIE ARMSTRANG. 

When Johnie cam before the Kino-, 
Wi' a' his men sae brave to see, 

The King; he movit his bonnet to him ; 
He ween'd he was a King as weel as he. 

" May I find grace, my sovereign liege, 
Grace for my loyal men and me ? 

For my name it is Johnie Armstrang, 

And a subject of yours, my liege," said he. 

" Away, away, thou traitor Strang ! 

Out o" my sight soon mayst thou be! 
I grantit never a traitor's life, 

And now I'll not begin wi' thee." — 

" Grant me my life, my liege, my King! 

And a bonny gift Pll gie to thee — 
Full four-and-twenty milk-white steids, 

Here a' foal'd in ae yeir to me. 

" I'll gie thee a' these milk-white steids, 
That prance and nicker 1 at a speir; 

And as mickle gude Inglish gilt, 2 

As four o' their braid backs dow 3 bear." — 

" Away, away, thou traitor Strang ! 

Out o' my sight soon mayst thou be ! 
I grantit never a traitor's life, 

And now Pll not begin wi' thee." — 



1 Neigh. 2 Gold. 3 Are able to. 



JOHNIE ARMSTRANG. 235 

" Grant me my life, my liege, my King ! 

And a bonny gift I'll gie to thee — 
Gude four-and-twenty ganging mills, 

That gang thro' a' the yeir to me. 

" These four-and-twenty mills complete 
Sail gang for thee thro' a' the yeir ; 

And as mickle of gude reid wheit, 
As a* thair happers dovv to bear." 

" Away, away, thou traitor Strang ! 

Out o' my sight soon mayst thou be ! 
I grantit never a traitor's life, 

And now I'll not begin wi' thee." — 

f* Grant me my life, my liege, my King ! 

And a great gift I'll gie to thee — 
Bauld four-and-twenty sister's sons, 

Sail for thee fecht, tho' a' should flee ! " 

" Away, away, thou traitor Strang ! 

Out o' my sight soon mayst thou be ! 
I grantit never a traitor's life, 

And now I'll not begin wi' thee." — 

" Grant me my life, my liege, my King ! 

And a brave gift I'll gie to thee — 
All between heir and Newcastle town, 

Sail pay their yeirly rent to thee." — 



236 JOHNIE ARMSTRONG. 

" Away, away, thou traitor Strang ! 

Out o' my sight soon mayst thou be! 
I grantit never a traitor's life, 

And now I'll not begin wi* thee." — 

" Ye lied, ye lied, now, King," he says, 
" Altho' a King and Prince ye be ! 

For Pve luved naething in my life, 
I weel dare say it, but honesty — 

" Save a fat horse, and a fair woman, 

Twa bonny dogs to kill a deir, 
But England suld have found me meal and mault, 

Gif I had lived this hundred yeir ! 

" She suld have found me meal and mault, 
And beef and mutton in a' plentie, 

But never a Scots wyfe could have said, 
That e'er I skaith'd her a puir flee. 

" To seik hot water beneith cauld ice, 

Surely it is a greit folie — 
I have asked grace at a graceless face, 

But there is nane for my men and me ! 

" But had I kenn'd ere I cam frae hame, 
How thou unkind wadst been to me ! 

1 wad have keepit the Border side, 
In spite of all thy force and thee. 



JOHNIE ARMSTRANG. 237 

" Wist England's King that I was ta'en 

O gin a blythe man he wad be ! 
For anes I slew his sister's son, 

And on his breist bane brak a trie." — 

John wore a girdle about his middle 
Imbroider'd ower wi' burning gold, 

Bespangled wi' the same metal, 
Maist beautiful was to behold. 

There hang nine targats 1 at Johnie's hat, 
And ilk ane worth three hundred pound — 

r What wants that knave that a King suld have 
But the sword of honour and the crown ? 

" O where got thou these targats, Johnie, 
That blink sae brawly abune thy brie?" — 

" I gat them in the field fechting, 

Where, cruel King, thou durst not be. 

" Had I my horse, and harness gude, 

And riding as I wont to be, 
It suld have been tauld this hundred yeir, 

The meeting of my King and me ! 

" God be with thee, Kirsty, my brother, 
Lang live thou Laird of Mangertoun : 

Lang mayst thou live on the Border syde, 
Ere thou see thy brother ride up and down. 



1 Tassels. 



238 JOHNIE ARMSTRANG. 

" And God be with the, Kirsty, my son, 
Where thou sits on thy nurse's knee ! 

But an thou live this hundred yeir, 
Thy father's better thoul't never be. 

" Farewell ! my bonny Gilnock hall, 
Where on Esk side thou standest stout ! 

Gif I had lived but seven yeirs mair, 
I wad hae gilt thee round about." 

John murderM was at Carlinrigg, 
And all his gallant cumpanie ; 

But Scotland's heart was ne'er sae wae, 
To see sae mony brave men die — 

Because they saved their country deir 
Frae Englishmen ! Nane were sa bauld, 

Whyle Johnie lived on the Border syde, 
Nane of them durst cum neir his hauld. 



■; 




ANNAN WATER. 

This ballad was first published by Sir Walter, from tradition. 
It is said that a bridge over the Annan was built in conse- 
quence of the melancholy catastrophe which it relates. 

c A NNAN water's wading deep, 
iV And my love Annie's wondrous bonny ; 
And I am laith she suld weet her feet, 
Because I love her best of ony. 

I Gar saddle me the bonny black, 

Gar saddle sune, and make him ready ; 

For I will down the Gatehope-Slack, 
And all to see my bonny ladye." — 



He has loupen on the bonny black, 

He stirr'd him wi' the spur right sairly ; 

But, or he wan the Gatehope-Slack 
I think the steed was wae and weary. 



240 ANNAN WATER. 

He has loupen on the bonny grey, 
He rade the right gate and the ready, 

I trow he would neither stint nor stay 
For he was seeking his bonny ladye. 

O he has ridden o'er field and fell, 

Through muir and moss, and mony a mire, 

His spurs o' steel were sair to bide, 
And frae her fore-feet flew the fire. 

" Now, bonny grey, now play your part ! 

Gin ye be the steed that wins my deaiy, 
Wi' corn and hay ye'se be fed for aye, 

And never spur sail make you wearie." — 

The grey was a mare, and a right good mare, 
But when she wan the Ann n water, 

She couldna hae ridden a furlong mair, 

Had a thousand merks been wadded l at her. 



1 Wagered. 2 Swollen. 

3 The belief that animals are enabled to perceive super- 
natural beings, is widely spread throughout Europe. " Chil- 
dren, horses, and cows," says Martin, " see the second sight, 
as well as men and women advanced in years." — Western 
Isles, p. 306. " About twenty days previous to the battle of 
Pentland, two merchants of Haddington saw on a Saturday's 
night, the apparitions of four men, in grey clothes and blue 
bonnets, standing round a dead corpse, lying swaddled in a 
winding-sheet — their dog was so feared, that he durst not go 
forward, but came running back among the horse's feet." 
— Satan's Invisible World. 

The Elfin a' i' the knock that were 
Gard dancing in a string; 



ANNAN WATER. 241 

" O boatman, bcatman, put off your boat ! 

Put off your boat for gowden money ! 
I cross the drumly 2 stream the night, 

Or never mair I see my honey." — 

"01 was sworn sae late yestreen, 
And not by ae aith, but by many, 

And for a' the gowd in fair Scotland, 
I dare na take ye through to Annie." — 

The side was stey, and the bottom deep, 
Frae bank to brae the water pouring ; 

And the bonny grey mare did sweat for fear 
For she heard the water kelpy roaring. 3 

O he has pou'd aff his dapperpy 4 coat, 
The silver buttons glanced bonny, 

The waistcoat bursted aff his breast, 
He was sae full of melancholy. 



They nighed near the husband's house 

Sae lang their tails did hing. 
The hound he yowls i' th' yard, 

The herd toots in his horn ; 
The earn scraichs, and the cock craws 
As the husbande had gi'en him his corn. 

The Elfin Grey — (K&mpe Viser.) 

According to Macpherson, it was an old Highland belief, 
that the deer saw the ghosts of the dead. The deer hounds 
of Trenar (Fingal, Duan I. v. 465.) are described as seeing 
their master's ghost in the Orkney Islands, at the moment 
of his death in Ireland. 



4 Sir Walter suggests " cap-a-pie.' 



242 A'KNAN WATER. 

He has ta'en the ford at that stream tail, 
I wot he swam both strong and steady, 

But the stream was broad, and his strength did 
fail, 
And he never saw his bonnye ladye: 

" O wae betide the frush saugh 1 wand ! 

And wae betide the bush of brier, 
It brake into my true love's hand, 

When his strength did fail, and his limbs did 
tire. 

" And wae betide ye, Annan Water, 
This night that ye are a drumlie river ! 

For over thee I'll build a bridge, 

That ye never more true love may sever." 

1 Brittle willow wand. 




BARTHRAM'S DIRGE. 



xmrnrmm 


H 


StS 



HIS fragment was " taken down 
by Mr. Surtees, from the recita- 
tion of Anne Douglas, an old 
woman who weeded in his gar- 
den." Many lines of it, short 
as it is, were avowedly supplied 
by the historian of Durham ; and its general 
character, although exceedingly beautiful, is 
scarcely that of the genuine " old and antique 
song." The " Nine Stone Rig," and the " Nine 
Stone Burn," would seem to refer to those places 
in the vicinity of Hermitage Castle. 



BARTHRAM'S DIRGE. 

THEY shot him dead at the Nine-Stone Rig, 
Beside the Headless Cross, 
And they left him lying in his blood, 
Upon the moor and moss. 

They made a bier of the broken bough, 

The sauch 1 and the aspin gray, 
And they bore him to the Lady Chapel, 

And waked him there all day. 

A Lady came to that lonely bower 

And threw her robes aside, 
She tore her ling long yellow hair, 

And knelt at Barthram's side. 

She bathed him in the Lady-Well, 

His wounds so deep and sair, 
And she plaited a garland for his breast, 

And a garland for his hair. 

They rowed him in a lily-sheet 

And bare him to his earth, 
And the Gray Friars sung the dead man's nu 

As they pass'd the Chapel Garth. 

» Willow. 



barthram's dirge. 245 

They buried him at the mirk midnight, 

When the dew fell cold and still; 
When the aspin gray forgot to play, 

And the mist clung to the hill. 

They dug his grave but a bare foot deep 
By the edge of the Ninestone Burn, 

And they covered him o'er with the heather 
flower, 
The moss and the Lady fern. 

A Gray Friar staid upon the grave, 

And sang till the morning tide, 
And a friar shall sing for Barthram's soul, 

While the Headless Cross shall bide. 




From the Border Minstrelsy, vol. iii. p. 201. Lochroyau, 
whence the ballad derives its name, is in Galloway. 



" /^\ WHA will shoe my bonny foot? 

V>/ And wha will glove my hand ? 
And wha will lace my waist sae sma* 

Wi' a lang lang linen band? 



" O wha will kame my yellow hair 
With a new made silver kame ? 

And wha will father my young son, 
Till Lord Gregory come bame?" — 



" Thy father will shoe thy bonny foot, 
Thy mother will glove thy hand, 

Thy sister will lace thy waist sae sma', 
Till Lord Gregory come to land. 



THE LASS OF LOCHROYAN. 247 

" Thy brother will kame thy yellow hair 

With a new-made silver kame, 
And God will be thy bairn's father 

Till Lord Gregory come name." — 

" But I will get a bonny boat, 

To sail the salt, salt sea ! 
And I will gang to Lord Gregory 

Since he canna come hame to me." 

Syne she's gar'd build a bonny boat 

To sail the salt, salt sea ; 
The sails were o' the light green silk 

The tows o* taffety. 1 

She hadna sailed but twenty leagues, 

But twenty leagues and three, 
When she met wi' a rank robber 

And a' his company. 



1 Many "stately schippes" of this description occur in 
Romance. Partenopex de Blois meets with such a vessel 
(see Rose's Translation) ; and in the Romance of Richard 
Coeur de Lion, the messengers who are sent to discover 
" the fairest woman alive," as a wife for King Henry, meet 
on the open seas with a ship of whalebone, adorned with 
nails of gold. Her masts were of ivory, and the sails of 
samite were fastened with ropes of white silk : the decks of 
this "fayre ship" were covered with cloth of gold; and 
seated on a throne of " carboncle stone," was an antique 
personage, who declared himself to be the King of Antioch. 



248 THE LASS OF LOCHROYAN. 

" Now whether are ye the queen hersell 

(For so ye weel might be,) 
Or are ye the Lass of Lochroyan, 

Seekin' Lord Gregory?" 

" Oh, I am neither the queen, she said, 

Nor sic I seem to be ; 
But I am the Lass o' Lochroyan, 

Seekin' Lord Gregory." — 

" Oh see ye not yon bonny bower ? 

It's a' covered o'er wi' tin, — 
When thou hast sailed it round about, 

Lord Gregory is within." — 

And when she saw the stately tower 
Shining sae clear and bright, 

Whilk stood abune the jawing 1 wave, 
Built on a rock of height. 

Says — " Row the boat, my mariners, 

And bring me to the land ! 
For yonder I see my love's castle 

Close by the salt-sea strand." 

She sailed it round, and sailed it round, 

And loud, loud cried she — 
" Now break, now break, ye fairy charms, 

And set my true love free ! " 



Dashing. 



THE LASS OF LOCHROYAN. 249 

She's ta'en her young son in her arms, 

And to the door she's gane ; 
And long she knocked and sair she ca'd, 

But answer got she nane. 

" O open the door, Lord Gregory ! 

O open and let me in ! 
For the wind blaws through my yellow hair, 

And the rain draps o'er my chin." 

" Awa, awa, ye ill woman ! 

Ye're no come here for good ; 
Ye're but some witch, or wild warlock, 

Or mermaid o' the flood." 

" Pm neither witch, nor wild warlock, 

Nor mermaid o* the sea ; 
But I am Annie o' Lochroyan ; 

O open the door to me \" 

" Gin thou be Annie o' Lochroyan 

(As I trow thou binna she) 
Now tell me some o' the love tokens 

That past between thee and me ?" 

" Oh dinna ye mind, Lord Gregory, 

As we sat at the wine, 
We changed the rings frae our fingers, 

And I can show thee thine?" 



'250 THE LASS OF LOCHROYAN. 

" Oh yours was gude, and gude enough, 

But aye the best was mine ; 
For yours was o' the gude red gowd, 

But mine o' the diamond fine." 

" Now open the door, Lord Gregory ! 

Open the door, I pray ! 
For thy young son is in my arms, 

And will be dead 'ere day." — 

u If thou be the lass o* Lochroyan 

(As I kenna thou be) 
Tell me some mair o' the love tokens 

Past between me and thee ?" — 

Fair Annie turned her round about — 

" Weel ! since that it be sae, 
May never a woman that has borne a son 

Hae a heart sae fou o* wae ! " 

" Take down, take down, that mast of gowd ! 

Set up a mast of tree ! 
It disna become a forsaken lad ye 

To sail sae royallie ! *' 

When the cock had crawn, and the day did dawn, 

And the sun began to peep, 
Then up and raise him, Lord Gregoiy, 

And sair, sair did he weep. 



THE LASS OF LOCHROYAN. 251 

11 Oh I hae dreamed a dream, mother, 

I wish it may prove true ! 
That the bonny Lass of Lochroyan 

Was at the gate e'en now. 

r Oh I hae dreamed a dream, mother 

The thought o't gars me greet ! 
That Fair Annie o' Lochroyan 

Lay cauld dead at my feet !" 

" Gin it be for Annie o' Lochroyan 

That ye make a' this din, 
She stood a' last night at your door 

But I trow she wan na in." — 

" O wae betide ye, ill woman ! 

An ill death may ye die ! 
That wadna open the door to her 

Nor yet wad waken me !" 

Oh he's gane down to yon shore side 

As fast as he could fare ; 
He saw fair Annie in the boat, 

But the wind it tossed her sair. 

" And hey, Annie ! and how, Annie ! 

Oh Annie, winna ye bide !" 
But aye the mair he cried Annie, 

The braider grew the tide. — 



252 THE LASS OF LOCHROYAN. 

" And hey, Annie ! and how, Annie ! 

Dear Annie, speak to me !" 
But aye the louder he cried Annie 

The louder roared the sea. — 

The wind blew loud, the sea grew rough, 
And dashed the boat on shore ; 

Fair Annie floated through the fa'eni, 
But the babie rose no more. 

Lord Gregory tore his yellow hair, 

And made a heavy moan ; 
Fair Annie's corpse lay at his feet, 

His bonny young son was gone. 

Oh cherry, cherry was her cheek, 

And gowden was her hair ; 
But clay cold were her rosy lips — 

Nae spark of life was there. 

And first he kissed her cherry cheek, 
And syne he kissed her chin, 

And syne he kissed her rosy lips — 
There was nae breath within. 

" Oh wae betide my cruel mother ! 

An ill death may she die ! 
She turned my true love frae my door 

Wha came sae far to me. 



THE LASS OF LOCHROYAN. 253 

" Oh wae betide my cruel mother! 

An ill death may she die ; 
She turned Fair Annie frae my door, 

Wha died for love o' me" 




EARL RICHARD. 

Border Minstrelsy, vol. iii. p. 184. 

" /^\ LADY rock never your young son young, 

v_>/ One hour langer for me ; 
For I have a sweetheart in Garlioch Wells 

I love far better than thee. 

" The very sole of that lady's foot 

Than thy face is far more white." 
" But nevertheless, now, Erl Richard, 

Ye will bide in my bower a* night ?" 

She birled l him with the ale and wine 

As they sat down to sup : 
A living man he laid him down, 

But I wot he ne'er rose up. 



1 Plied. 



EARL RICHARD. 2&& 

Then up and spake the popinjay, 1 

That flew aboun her head, 
" Lady ! keep weel your green cleiding 

Frae gude Erl Richard's bleid." — 

■' O better I'll keep my green cleiding 

Frae gude Erl Richard's bleid, 
Than thou canst keep thy clattering toung, 

That prattles in thy head." 

She has call'd upon her bower maidens, 

She has call'd them ane by ane, 
" There lies a dead man in my bour, 

I wish that he were gane." 

They hae booted him, and spurred him, 

As he was wont to ride ; 
A hunting-horn tied round his waist, 

A sharpe sword by his side ; 
And they hae had him to the wan water, 

For a' men call it Clyde. 

Then up and spoke the popinjay 

That sat upon the tree, — 
" What hae ye done wi' Erl Richard ? 

Ye were his gay ladye." — 

" Come down, come down, my bonny bird, 
And sit upon my hand, 

1 Parrot. 



256 EARL RICHARD. 

And thou sail hae a cage o' gowd, 
Where thou hast but the wand." — 

" Awa ! awa ! ye ill woman ! 

Nae cage o' gowd for me, 
As ye hae done to Erl Richard, 

Sae wad ye do to me." 

She hadna cross' d a rigg o' land, 

A rigg but barely ane, 
When she met wi' his auld father, 

Came riding all alane. 

" Where hae ye been, now, lad ye fair, 

Where hae ye been sae late ? 
We hae been seeking Erl Richard, 

But him we canna get." — 

" Erl Richard kens a' the fords in Clyde, 

He'll ride them ane by ane, 
And though the night was ne'er sae mirk, 

Erl Richard will be hame." 



O it fell anes, upon a day 
The King was boun to ride, 

And he hast mist him, Erl Richard 
Should hae ridden on his right side. 

The ladye turn'd her round about 
Wi' mickle mournfu' din — 



EARL RICHARD. 257 

" It fears me sair o' Clyde water 
That he is drowned therein." — 

" Gar douk, 1 gar douk," the King he cried, 

" Gar douk for gold and fee, 
O wha will douk for Erl Richard's sake, 

Or wha will douk for me?" 

They douked in at ae weil-heid, 2 

And out aye at the other, 
" We can douk nae mair for Erl Richard, 

Although he were our brother." 

It fell that in that ladye's castle 

The King was boun to bed, 
And up and spake the popinjay, 

That flew abune his head. 

" Leave aff your douking on the day, 

And douk upon the night, 
And where that sackless 3 knight lies slain, 

The candles will burn bright." 4 

1 Dive. 2 Eddy. 3 Innocent. 

4 " These," says Sir Walter, " are the corpse-lights, called 
in Wales Canhwyllan Cyrph, which are sometimes seen to 
illuminate the spot where a dead body is concealed." There 
is a singular custom yet existing in Bretagne, however, to 
which, if we had any reason for believing it ever prevailed 
in Scotland, we might suppose the ballad referred. When 
the body of a drowned person cannot be found, a lighted 
candle is stuck into a loaf, and set afloat; where the loaf 
stops they expect to find the body. 



258 EARL RICHARD. 

" O there's a bird within this bower, 
That sings baith sad and sweet, 

O there's a bird within your bower, 
Keeps me frae my night's sleep." 

They left the douking on the day, 
And douk'd upon the night, 

And where that sackless knight lay slain 
The candles burned bright. 

The deepest pot in a' the linn, 

They found Erl Richard in, 
A green turf tyed across his breast, 

To keep that gude lord down. 

Then up and spake the King himself, 
When he saw the deadly wound, 

" O wha has slain my right-hand man, 
That held my hawk and hound?" — 

Then up and spake the popinjay, 
Says — " What needs a' this din ? 

It was his light leman took his life, 
And hided him in the linn." 

She swore her by the grass sae grene, 

Sae did she by the corn, 
She hadna seen him, Erl Richard, 

Since Monanday at morn. 






EARL RICHARD. 259 

1 Put na the vvite 1 on me," she said, 

" It was ray may Catherine." 
Then they hae cut baith fern and thorn, 

To burn that maiden in. 

It wadna take upon her cheik, 

Nor yet upon her chin, 
Nor yet upon her yellow hair, 

To cleanse the deadly sin. 

The maiden touch/d the clay-cauld corpse 

A drap it never bled, 
The ladye laid her hand on him, 

And soon the ground was red. 2 

Out they hae ta'en her may Catherine, 

And put her mistress in. 
The flame tuik fast upon her cheik, 

Tuik fast upon her chin, 
Tuik fast upon her faire body — 

She burn'd like hollin-green. 



1 Blame. 

2 This alludes to the ancient custom of the u bahr recbt," 
or law of the bier, whereby the murdered body being placed 
on a bier, the suspected murderer was obliged to put one 
hand on the wound, and the other on the mouth of the de- 
ceased, calling upon heaven to attest his innocence. If 
during this ceremony blood gushed from the body, it was 
held sufficient evidence of the guilt of the party. — Sir Walter 
Scott. 




JOHNIE OF BREADISLEE. 




HE old castle of Morton, in 
Dumfriesshire, now ruinous, is 
said to have been the residence 
of "Johnie." "Near to this 
castle there was a park, built 
by Sir Thomas Randolph, on 
the face of a very great and high hill ; so arti- 
ficially, that, by the advantage of the hill, all 
wild beasts, such as deers, harts, and roes, and 
hares, did easily leap in, but could not get out 
again; and if any other cattle, such as cows» 
sheep, or goats, did voluntarily leap in, or were 
forced to do it, it is doubted if their owners were 
permitted to get them out again." Account of 
the Presbytery o/Penpont, apud Macfarlane 1 s MSS. 
quoted by Sir Walter Scott. 



JOHNIE OF BREADISLEE. 

JOHNIE rose up in a May morning, 
CalPd for water to wash his hands — 
" Gar loose to me the gude graie dogs, 
That are bound wi* iron bands." — 

When Johnie's mother gat word o* that, 
Her hands for dule she wrang — 

" O Johnie ! for my benison, 
To the greenwood dinna gang ! 

•* Eneugh ye hae o' gude wheat bread, 
And eneugh o' the blood-red wine, 

And, therefore, for nae venison, Johnie, 
I pray ye stir frae hame." — 

But Johnie's busk't up his gude bend bow, 

His arrows, ane by ane ; 
And he has gane to Durrisdeer, 

To hunt the dun deer down. 

As he came down by Merriemass, 

And in by the benty line, 
There has he espied a deer lying 

Aneath a bush of ling. 1 

1 Heath. 



262 JOHNIE OF BREADISLEE. 

Johnie he shot, and the dun deer lap, 
And he wounded her on the side ; 

But atween the water and the brae, 
His hounds they laid her pride. 

And Johnie has bryttled 1 the deer sae weel 
That he's had out her liver and lung's ; 

And wi' these he has feasted his bluidy hounds, 
As if they had been earl's sons. 

They eat sae much o' the venison, 
And drank sae much o' the blude, 

That Johnie and a' his bluidy hounds, 
Fell asleep as they had been dead. 

And by there came a silly auld carle, 

An ill death mote he die ! 
For he's awa' to Hislinton, 

Where the Seven Foresters did lie. 

" What news, what news, ye gray-headed carle, 

What news bring ye to me ?" 
u I bring nae news," said the gray-headed carle, 

" Save what these eyes did see. 

" As I came down by Merriemas, 

And down among the scroggs, 2 
The bonniest childe that ever I saw 

Lay sleeping amang his dogs. 

1 Brittle, to cut up venison. 2 Stunted trees. 



JOHNIE OF BREADISLEE. 263 

" The shirt that was upon his back 

Was o' the Holland fine ; 
The doublet which was over that 

Was o' the lincome twine. 1 

" The buttons that were on his sleeve, 

Were o* {he goud sae gude : 
The gude graie hounds he lay amang, 

Their mouths were dyed wi* blude." — 

Then out and spak the First Forester, 

The heid man ower them a' — 
" If this be Johnie o' Breadislee, 

Nae nearer will we draw." — 

But up and spak the Sixth Forester, 

(His sister's son was he) 
" If this be Johnie o' Breadislee, 

We soon shall gar him die !" — 

The first flight of arrows the Foresters shot 

They wounded him on the knee; 
And out and spak the Seventh Forester, 

" The next will gar him die." 

Johnie's set his back against an aik, 

His fute against a stane : 
And he has slain the Seven Foresters, 

He has slane them a' but ane. 

1 The Lincoln Twist. 



264 J0HN1E OF BREADISLEE. 

He has broke three ribs in that ane's side, 

But and his collar bane ; 
He's laid him twa-fald ower his steed, 

Bade him carry the tidings hame. 

" O is there nae a bonnie bird, 

Can sing as I can say ; 
Could flee away to my mother's bower, 

And tell to fetch Johnie away ? 

" There's no a bird in a' this forest 

Will do as meikle for me, 
As dip its wing in the wan water, 

And straik it on my ee-bree." 

The starling flew to his mother's window stane, 

It whistled and it sang; 
And aye the ower word o' the tune, 

Was — " Johnie tarries lang ! " 

They made a rod o' the hazel bush, 

Another o' the slae thorn tree, 
And mony mony were the men 

At fetching o'er Johnie. 

Then out and spak his auld mother, 

And fast her tears did fa* — 
" Ye wad nae be warn'd, my son Johnie, 

Frae the hunting to bide awa.' 



JOHNIE OF BREADISLEE. 265 

" Aft hae I brought to Breadislee, 

The less gear and the mair, 
But I ne'er brought to Breadislee, 

What grieved my heart sae sair. 

" But wae betyde that silly auld carle ! 

An ill death shall he die ! 
For the highest tree in Merriemas 

Shall be his morning's fee." 

Now Johnie's gude bend bow is broke, 
And his gude graie dogs are slain ; 

And his bodie lies dead in Durrisdeer, 
And his hunting it is done. 




THE CRUEL SISTER. 

From the text of Sir Walter Scott. Border Minstrelsy, vol. 
iii. p. 289. 

THERE were two sisters sat in a bour, 
Binnorie, O Binnorie, 
There came a knight to be their wooer, 
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 



He courted the eldest with glove and ring, 

Binnorie, O Binnorie, 
But he lo'ed the youngest abune a' thing, 
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 

He courted the eldest with broach and knife, 

Binnorie, O Binnorie, 
But he lo'ed the youngest abune his life, 
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 



THE CRUEL SISTER. 267 

The eldest she was vexed sair, 

Binnorie, O Binnorie, 
And sore envied her sister fair, 

By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 

The eldest said to the youngest ane, 

Binnorie, O Binnorie, 
" Will ye go and see our father's ships come in ?" 
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 

She's ta'en her by the lily hand, 

Binnorie, O Binnorie, 
And led her down to the river strand, 
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 

The youngest stud upon a stane, 

Binnorie, O Binnorie, 
The eldest came and pushed her in, 

By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 

She took her by the middle sma' 

Binnorie, O Binnorie, 
And dash'd her bonny back to the jaw, 
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 

" O sister, sister, reach your hand, 

Binnorie, O Binnorie, 
And ye shall be heir of half my land." 
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie 



268 THE CRUEL SISTER. 

" O sister, Pll not reach my hand, 

Binnorie, O Binnorie, 
And I'll be heir of all your land, 

By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 

" Shame fa' the hand that I should take, 

Binnorie, O Binnorie, 
It's tvvin'd me, and my world's make." — 
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 

" O sister, reach me but your glove, 
Binnorie, O Binnorie, 
And sweet William shall be your love." — 
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 

" Sink on, nor hope for hand or glove ! 

Binnorie, O Binnorie, 
And sweet William shall better be my love, 
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 

" Your cherry cheeks and your yellow hair, 

Binnorie, O Binnorie, 
Garr'd me gang maiden evermair." 
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 



Sometimes she sunk, and sometimes she swam, 

Binnorie, O Binnorie, 
Until she cam to the miller's dam, 

By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 



THE CRUEL SISTER. 269 

" O father, father, draw your dam ! 

Binnorie, O Binnorie, 
There's either a mermaid, or a milk white swan ! " 
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 

The miller hasted and drew his dam, 

Binnorie, O Binnorie, 
And there he found a drown' d woman, 
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 

You could not see her yellow hair, 

Binnorie, O Binnorie> 
For gowd, and pearls that were so rare, 
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 

You could not see her middle sma' 

Binnorie, O Binnorie, 
Her gowden girdle was sae bra', 

By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 

A famous harper passing by, 

Binnorie, O Binnorie, 
The sweet pale face he chanced to spy, 
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 

And when he looked that lady on, 

Binnorie, O Binnorie, 
He sigh'd and made a heavy moan, 

By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 



270 THE CRUEL SISTER. 

He made a harp ofher breast bone, 

Binnorie, O Binnorie, 
Whose sounds would melt a heart of stone, 
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 

The strings he framed of her yellow hair, 

Binnorie, O Binnorie, 
Whose notes made sad the listening ear, 
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 

He brought it to her father's hall, 

Binnorie, O Binnorie, 
And there was the court assembled all, 
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 

He laid his harp upon a stone, 

Binnorie, O Binnorie, 
And straight it began to play alone, 

By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 

" O yonder sits my father, the king, 

Binnorie, O Binnorie, 
And yonder sits my mother, the queen, 
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 

u And yonder stands my brother Hugh, 

Binnorie, O Binnorie, 
x\nd by him, my William, sweet and true." 
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 



THE CRUEL SISTER. 271 

But the last tune that the harp play'd then, 

Binnorie, O Binnorie, 
Was — " Woe to my sister false Helen !" 
By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. 




WIFE OF USHER'S WELL. 

Border Minstrelsy, vol. iii. p. 258. 

THERE lived a wife at Usher's Well 
And a wealthy wife was she, 
She had three stout and stalwart sons, 
And sent them o'er the sea. 

They hadna been a week from her, 

A week but barely ane, 
When word came to the carline wife 

That her three sons were °ane. 



They hadna been a week from her, 

A week but barely three, 
When word came to the carline wife 

That her sons she'd never see. 



THE WIFE OF USHER'S WELL. 273 

" I wish the wind may never cease, 

Nor fashes 1 in the flood, 
Till my three sons come hame to me, 

In earthly flesh and blood. " — 

It fell about the Martin mas 

When nights are lang and mirk, 
The carline wife's three sons came hame, 

And their hats were o' the birk. 

It neither grew in syke nor ditch, 

Nor yet in ony sheugh 
But at the gates o' Paradise, 

That birk grew fair eneugh. 



" Blow up the fire, my maidens, 
Bring water from the well ! 

For a' my house shall feast this night 
Since my three sons are well." — 

And she has made to them a bed, 
She's made it large and wide, 

And she's ta'en her mantle her about, 
Sat down at the bed-side. 



Up then crew the red red cock, 
And up and crew the gray, 

1 Troubles. 



274 THE WIFE OF USHER'S WELL. 

The eldest to the youngest said, 
" 'Tis time we were away." — 

The cock he hadna craw'd but once, 

And clapp'd his wings at a', 
When the youngest to the eldest said, 

" Brother, we must awa. 

" The cock doth craw, the day doth daw, 
The chaunerin 1 worm doth chide, 

Gin we be mist out o' our place, 
O sair pain we maun bide. 

" Fare ye weel, my mother dear ! 

Fare weel to barn and byre ! 
And fare ye weel, the bonny lass, 

That kindles my mothers fire." 



Fretting. 




SIR PATRICK SPENS. 




jHE following explanation of the 
ballad of Sir Patrick Spens, is 
given by Sir Walter Scott. 

" Alexander III. of Scotland 
died in 1285, and, for the mis- 
fortune of his country, as well 
as his own, he had been bereaved of all his 
children before his decease. The crown of Scot- 
land descended upon his grandaughter, Margaret, 
termed, by our historians, The Maid of Norway. 
She was the only offspring of a marriage betwixt 
Eric, King of Norway, and Margaret, daughter 
of Alexander III. The kingdom had been 
secured to her by the Parliament of Scotland held 
at Scone, the year preceding her grandfather's 
death. The regency of Scotland entered into a 
congress with the ministers of the King of Nor- 



276 SIR PATRICK SPENS. 

way, and with those of England, for the estab- 
lishment of good order in the kingdom of the 
infant princess. Shortly afterwards, Edward I. 
conceived the idea of matching his eldest son, 
Edward, Prince of Wales, with the young Queen 
of Scotland. The plan was eagerly embraced 
by the Scottish nobles, for, at that time, there was 
little of the national animosity, which afterwards 
blazed betwixt the countries, and they patriotic- 
ally looked forward to the important advantage 
of uniting the island of Britain into one kingdom. 
But Eric of Norway seems to have been unwilling 
to deliver up his daughter, and, while the nego- 
tiations were thus protracted, the death of the 
maid of Norway effectually crushed a scheme, 
the consequences of which might have been that 
the distinction betwixt England and Scotland 
would, in one day, have been as obscure and 
uninteresting as that of the realms of the hep- 
tarchy. 

"The unfortunate voyage of Sir Patrick Spens 
may really have taken place, for the purpose of 
bringing back the maid of Norway to her own 
kingdom, a purpose which was probably defeated 
by the jealousy of the Norwegians, and the re- 
luctance of King Eric." 1 

On the other hand it has been objected, that 
there is no historical authority whatsoever for 

1 Border Minstrelsy, vol. i. p. 296. 



SIR PATRICK SPENS. 277 

the shipwreck; and Motherwell supposes that 
the ballad records the " disastrous fate of the 
gallant band which followed in the suite of Mar- 
garet, daughter of Alexander III. when she was 
espoused to Eric of Norway." 1 There are 
numerous difficulties, however, to be explained, 
before we can regard the ballad as undoubtedly 
referring to this event. How are we to under- 
stand, for instance, the following verse — 

To Norroway, to Norroway, 

To Norroway o'er the faem, 
And the King's daughter of Norroway 

'Tis we must bring her hame. 

At the same time it must be acknowledged that 
equal difficulties present themselves, if we admit 
the first view to be correct. 



Minstrelsy, Ancient and Modern, p. 10. 



SIR PATRICK SPENS. 

THE King sits in Dunfermline town, 
Drinking the blude red wine, 
" O whare will I get a skeely skipper, 1 
To sail this new ship of mine?" — 

O up and spake an eldern knight, 
Sat at the King's right knee, — 

" Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor 
That ever sailed the sea." — 

Our King has written a braid letter, 
And sealed it with his hand, 

And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens, 
Was walking on the strand. 

" To Noroway, to Noroway, 

To Noroway o'er the faem, 
The King's daughter of Noroway, 

'Tis thou maun bring her hame." 

The first word that Sir Patrick read, 

Sae loud loud laughed he, 
The neist word that Sir Patrick read, 

The tear blinded his ee. 

1 Skilful sailor. 



SIR PATRICK SPENS. 279 

" O wha is this has done this deed, 

And tauld the King o' me, 
To send us out, at this time of the year, 

To sail upon the sea? 1 

" Be it wind, be it weet, be it hail, be it sleet, 

Our ship must sail the faem, 
The King's daughter of Noroway, 

'Tis we must fetch her hame." — 

They hoysed their sails on Monenday morn, 

Wi' a* the speed they may, 
They hae landed in Noroway, 

Upon a Wodensday. 

They hadna been a week, a week 

In Noroway, but twae, 
When that the lords o' Noroway 

Began aloud to say, — 

" Ye Scottish-men spend a* our King's goud, 

And a' our Queenis fie." 
" Ye lie, ye lie, ye liars loud ! 

Fu' loud I hear ye lie. 



1 " By a Scottish act of parliament, it was enacted, that 
no ship should he freighted out of the kingdom, with any 
staple goods, betwixt the feast of St. Simon and Candlemass. 
Such was the terror entertained for navigating the north 
seas in winter." — Sir Walter Scott, 



280 SIR PATRICK SPENS. 

" For I brought as much white monie, 

As gane 1 my men and me, 
And I brought a half-fou 2 of gude red goud, 

Out o'er the sea wi' me. 



" Make ready, make ready, my merrymen a ! 

Our gude ship sails the morn." 
" Now, ever alake, my master dear, 

I fear a deadly storm ! 

" I saw the new moon, late yestreen, 

WP the auld moon in her arm, 
And if we gang to sea, master, 

I fear we'll come to harm." 

They hadna saiPd a league, a league, 

A league but barely three, 
When the lift 3 grew dark, and the wind blew loud, 

And gurly 4 grew the sea. 

The ankers brak, and the topmasts lap, 5 

It was sic a deadly storm, 
And the waves cam o'er the broken ship, 

Till a' her sides were torn. 



1 Suffice. 2 The eighth part of a peck. 

3 Sky. 4 Covered with waves. 

Sprang. 



SIR PATRICK SPENS. 281 

" O where will I get a guide sailor, 

To take my helm in hand, 
Till I get up to the tall top-mast, 

To see if I can spy land?" — 

" O here am I, a sailor gude, 

To take the helm in hand, 
Till you go up to the tall top-mast, 

But I fear you'll ne'er spy land." — 

He hadna gane a step, a step, 

A step, but barely ane, 
When a bout flew out of our goodly ship, 

And the salt sea it came in. 

" Gae, fetch a web o' the silken claith, 

Another o' the twine, 
And wap them into our ship's side, 

And let nae the sea come in." 

They fetched a web o' the silken claith, 

Another o' the twine, 
And they wapp'd them round that gude ship's 
side, 

But still the sea cam in. 

O laith, laith, were our gude Scots lords 

To weet their cork-heel'd shoon ! 
But lang or a' the play was play'd, 

They wat their hats aboon. 

y 



282 SIR PATRICK SPENS. 

And mony was the feather bed, 
That flatter'd* on the faem, 

And mony was the gude lord's son, 
That never mair cam hame. 

The ladyes wrang their fingers white, 
The maidens tore their hair, 

A* for the sake of their true loves, 
For them they'll see nae mair. 

O lang, lang may the ladyes sit 
Wi' their fans into their hand, 

Before they see Sir Patrick Spens 
Come sailing to the strand ! 

And lang, lang may the maidens sit 
With their goud kaims in their hair, 

A* waiting for their ain dear loves, 
For them they'll see nae mair. 

O forty miles off Aberdeen, 

Tis fifty fathoms deep, 
And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens 

Wi' the Scots lords at his feet. 



Fluttered, floated. 




THE EARL OF MURRAY. 




HE murder of the Earl of Mur- 
ray, by his hereditary enemy, 
the Earl of Hun tly (February, 
1592), was the result of an ex- 
tensive conspiracy, the details 
of which may be found in Gre- 
gory's "Western Highlands and Isles of Scot- 
land," pp. 245—260 ; the following is Sir Wal- 
ter Scott's account of the murder. Tales of a 
Grandfather, pt. 1. ch. xxxiii. 

" The Earl of Huntly, head of the powerful 
family of Gordon, and the man of greatest con- 
sequence in the north of Scotland, had chanced 
to have some feudal differences with the Earl of 
Murray, son in law of the Regent-earl of the 
same name, in the course of which, John Gordon, 
a brother of Gordon of Cluny, was killed by a 



284 THE EARL OF MURRAY. 

shot from Murray's castle of Darnaway. This 
was enough to make the two families irreconcil- 
able enemies, even if they had been otherwise on 
friendly terms. Murray was so handsome and 
personable a man, that he was generally known 
by the name of the Bonnie Earl of Murray. 
About 1591-2, an accusation was brought against 
Murray, for having given some countenance or 
assistance to Stewart, Earl of Both well, in a 
recent treasonable exploit. James, without 
recollecting, perhaps, the hostility between the 
two earls, sent Huntly with a commission to 
bring the Earl of Murray to his presence. Huntly 
probably rejoiced in the errand, as giving him 
an opportunity of avenging himself on his feudal 
enemy. He beset the house of Dunnibirsel, on 
the northern side of the Forth, and summoned 
Murray to surrender. In reply, a gun was fired 
which mortally wounded one of the Gordons. 
The assailants proceeded to set fire to the house, 
when Dunbar, Sheriff of the county of Moray, 
said] to the earl, ' Let us not stay to be burned 
in the flaming house : I will go out foremost, 
and the Gordons, taking me for your lordship, 
will kill me, while you escape in the confusion.' 
They rushed out among their enemies accordingly, 
and Dunbar was slain. But his death did not 
save his friend, as he had generously intended, 
Murray indeed escaped for the moment, but as 
he fled towards the rocks by the sea-shore, he 



THE EARL OF MURRAY. 285 

was traced by the silken tassels attached to his 
head-piece, which had taken fire as he broke 
out from among the flames. By this means the 
pursuers followed him down amongst the cliffs 
near the sea, and Gordon of Burkie, who is said 
to have been the first that overtook him, wounded 
him mortally. As Murray was gasping in the 
last agony, Huntly came up, and it is alleged by 
tradition, that Gordon pointed his dirk against 
the person of his chief, saying, ' By Heaven, my 
lord, you shall be as deep in as 1/ and so com- 
pelled him to wound Murray whilst he was 
dying. Huntly, with a wavering hand, struck 
the expiring earl on the face. Thinking of his 
superior beauty, even in that moment of parting 
life, Murray stammered out the dying words, 
' You have spoiled a better face than your own.' " 



THE EARL OF MURRAY. 

YE Highlands, and ye Low lands, 
Oh ! quhair hae ye been ? 
They hae slaine the Earl of Murray, 
And hae lain him on the green. 

Now wae be to thee, Huntly ! 

And quhairfore did you sae ? 
I bade you bring him wi* you, 

But forbade you him to slay. 

He was a braw gallant 

And he rid at the ring; 
And the bonny Earl of Murray, 

Oh ! he might hae been a king. 

He was a braw gallant, 

And he play'd at the ba', 
And the bonny Earl of Murray 

Was the flower amang them a\ 

He was a braw gallant, 

And he play'd at the gluve, 

And the bonny Earl of Murray, 
Oh ! he was the Queenes luve. 



THE EARL OF MURRAY. 287 

Oh ! Jang will his lady 

Look owre the castle Downe, 
Ere she see the Earl of Murray 

Cum sounding thro* the towne. 




BONNIE GEORGE CAMPBELL. 




T has been conjectured that this 
very beautiful fragment is a 
lament for one of the adherents 
of the house of Argyle, who 
fell in the battle of Glenlivat 
or Belrinnes (October 1594). 
There exists a contemporary ballad on this battle, 
which has been published by Grahame Dalzell, 
in his "Scottish Poems of the Sixteenth Century." 
It begins thus — 

" Mac Callum More came from the west 

With many a bow and brand, 
To waste the Rinnes he thought it best 

The Earl of Huntly's land/' 

It appears however highly probable, that the 
poem here given, commemorates the assassination 



BONNIE GEORGE CAMPBELL. 289 

of John Campbell of Calder, which was the re- 
sult of the same conspiracy which effected the 
murder of the "Bonnie Earl of Murray." A 
violent feud existed between Campbell of Ard- 
kinglas, and Campbell of Calder, which arose 
from the latter having been appointed guardian 
to the Earl of Argyle, then a minor. " After 
various unsuccessful attempts, Ardkinglass pro- 
cured, through the agency of John Oig Campbell 
of Cabrachan, the services of a man named Mac- 
Ellar, by whom Calder was assassinated. The 
deed was committed with a hackbut, supplied 
by Ardkinglas ; and the fatal shot was fired at 
night, through one of the windows of the house 
of Knepoch in Lorn, at the unsuspecting Calder, 
who fell, pierced through the heart with three 
bullets." 1 



1 Gregory's Western Highlands and Isles of Scotland, 
p. 250. 



^^gB3BSg5SS^^^S^§5^®352e 



BONNIE GEORGE CAMPBELL. 

HIE upon Hielands 
And low upon Tay, 
Bonnie George Campbell 

Rade out on a day. 
Saddled and bridled 

And gallant rade he ; 
Hame came his gude horse, 
But never cam he ! 

Out cam his auld mither 

Greeting fu' sair, 
And out cam his bonnie bride 

Rivin' 1 her hair. 
Saddled and bridled 

And booted rade he; 
Toom 2 hame cam the saddle, 

But never cam he ! 

" My meadow lies green, 
And my corn is unshorn ; 

My barn is to big, 3 

And my babie's unborn." 

1 Tearing. 2 Empty. 3 Build. 



BONNIE GEORGE CAMPBELL. 291 

Saddled and bridled 

And booted rade he ; 
Toom hame cam the saddle, 

But never cam he ! 



THE END. 



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